


The Rest of My Days

by dnawhite76, Prubbs



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Robin: Son of Batman (Comics), Super Sons (Comics), Superman (Comics)
Genre: Aged Up, Angst, Bat Family Shenanigans, Damian Al Ghul - Freeform, First Date, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Power struggles (of the super kind), Soul Bond AU, Torture, hiding relationship, so fucking cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-06-27 23:56:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 75,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15695988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dnawhite76/pseuds/dnawhite76, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prubbs/pseuds/Prubbs
Summary: “So, let me make sure that I'm getting all of this,” Tim said finally and Jon nodded, sitting on his hands to keep still. “You are soul bound to the guy who tried to kill you?” he nodded. “But he doesn't want to kill you any longer?” Jon shook his head. “He snuck into the manor and helped you with your Calculus homework?” He nodded again. “And he promised that he would come back?”A soul bond supersons AU that absorbed our entire summer (of super).





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> _“In a world full if temporary things, you are a perpetual feeling.”- **Sanober Khan**_

****

**CHAPTER ONE**

“Mother?” He waited outside the door for her to motion him forward. Things had changed in the last five years after the death of Grandfather. His mother had changed. She walked down the steps from her bed to him. He focused on her feet and not the men slipping back into the shadows. He could have no reaction to them, he'd learned that lesson years ago.    
  
“Damian. I have a mission for you.”    
  
She walked past him to the large table she used for mapping her plans. She tapped a simple folder on the edge before picking up a glass and sipping it. She watched him as he opened the file and read the name at the top. He read the file, it was detailed in ways that the league’s were not. He looked at the boy, a couple years younger than him, and wondered what he had done to earn his mother's attention. She was still watching him when he closed the file and set it back on the table. It was as if she had been expecting a reaction. She stepped forward and pulled a blade from somewhere on the table. His eyes followed the blade as she moved closer.    
  
“Damian, my son.” She touched his cheek and smiled at him. He saw nothing of the mother who had sung to him on nights when it all got to be too much, who had protected him when he was too young to protect himself, who had loved him. She was gone. “Do not fail me.” She placed the blade in his hand.    
  
“Never, Mother.” He stepped back bowing his head before turning to leave.    
  
-   
  
The sky was wide and blue, it stretched for as far as he could see. Damian crossed his legs and watched the clouds as he waited. When he was younger he had been quick to finish his missions. He would find his target, eliminate them, and return to the league - return home. As he got older and his mother changed, he took his time. He watched his targets as they went about their lives. The first time he'd imagined himself putting groceries away while talking to the three-legged tabby on the counter he'd panicked and had rushed to finish the mission. He'd left the window open when he left, so the cat wouldn't be stuck in the apartment with their deceased owner. Now he let his imagination weave alternate lives for himself. His mother only gave him five days before she would send someone to check on him. He liked to think that there was still a part of his mother who remembered growing up in the league and understood the need for a glimpse at freedom. He took each of those days and on the fifth his targets died.   
  
“Hey, Kent! Hold up.” He turned to look down from his perch on the roof of the school. His target had paused and was waiting on one of his classmates, the one who had called out. As he looked at the boy smile and adjust his glasses, he couldn't stop the smile that grew on his own face. He slid back when he watched the beat-up pick up back out of its parking space and start down the road. He knew his target would drop off his friend at his house, then return to his own. He had done the same thing for the last three days.    
  
As his target laughed with his mother, he watched from the edge of the cornfield surrounding the farmhouse . His chest ached inexplicably. He rubbed at it as his target stood looking out into the darkness while washing dishes. He shifted back into the field. Every night he'd stood watching him and every night he'd felt like he was watching him back.    
  
“I won't be out here long. I promise.” The door shut and the boy walked across the lawn to the barn. He'd spent the last two mornings working on a tractor before heading to school. The first morning was when he noticed that his target wasn't an average teenager. Damian slipped into the loft and looked down at the tractor. The boy picked up a wheel easily twice his size and moved it to the side with no more effort than someone might use to move a plate. He watched him work. The flex and pull of his shirt as he lifted the tractor onto a stand. The delicate way he adjusted the inner workings of the engine. He couldn't look away.   
  
With each day this odd feeling grew. He couldn't explain it. He hated Kansas, with its wide open land and it's too bright sun and sky. He hated the farmhouse with its creaks and groans and the caution it required. He hated everything about being here. Yet he found himself wanting to wake up and watch the sun rise through the stalks, feed the animals, drive into town on the bumpy road, but mostly he imagined doing all of it with the boy below. The boy who was cursing and kicking the tire when the engine still refused to turn over. He'd fallen asleep on the roof of the farmhouse the night before, lulled into peacefulness by the sound of his target getting ready for bed. He'd known when he'd woken up that he needed to finish the mission before he couldn't.    
  
Damian waited until the tractor was back on the ground with its wheel reattached before throwing a shuriken and cutting the power to the single bulb hanging from the ceiling. The barn filled with darkness. He heard the boy curse and move toward the door. Damian dropped down from the loft and the boy froze - his head tilted as he listened. He'd heard him, it shouldn't have been possible, but Damian was sure of it. He stepped back and the boy spun back around.   
  
“Who's there?” the boy called like he was actually expecting the darkness to answer him. The strange part was that he did want to answer him. Instead he shifted his feet before moving toward the door. Red beams burst through the darkness. He dodged and slid behind one of the posts supporting the roof. He recognized that light. He didn't think there was a person on the planet that didn't know the hue of Superman’s heat vision. He touched the blade tied at his hip. He hadn't understood why his mother had given him a ceremonial blade, but now the green stone made sense. He pulled it from its sheath and circled behind the boy who was turning and looking into the darkness but too panicked to look close enough. Damian moved as the boy reached the far wall. Another light came to life as he pressed the blade against the boys neck. He turned the blade, until the tip pressed into the soft spot under the boy's chin and his head tilted up. He watched as green veins crept up his neck from the blade. Too blue eyes stared at him, fearless.    
  
He blinked when his stomach turned and a familiar stinging sensation prickled at his neck. He hesitated as he realized what had just happened, why he'd felt so drawn in. That hesitation was enough for the boy to get a hand free and claw at the cloth on his face. It came free as the door to the barn opened.    
  
“Hey bud, your mom said-” the Superman froze in the doorway as he took in the sight. He saw a flash of recognition on the man's face, almost like he was seeing a ghost, before the heat built behind his eyes. Damian jammed the blade into the boy's shoulder and ran. He knew the superman would stop to help his son and he'd be able to make his escape. His shoulder, like the boy's, ached as he ran. He touched it and hissed a curse.    
  
-   
  
“Do you have any idea what you have cost us?” his mother asked. He stayed quiet from his spot on his knees at the base of the dias her throne-like chair sat on. He knew it was not a question she wanted the answer to. “You understand why you must be punished?”    
  
“I failed,” he said as evenly as possible. The crack of the whip on his back echoed off the walls of the chamber. He focused on breathing. If he reacted it would last longer. His mother's feet stepped in front of him. He kept his head bowed. He spared a thought that the boy wasn't feeling this as she stepped to his side and the whip cut into his skin again.    
  
“You are no longer a child. You must withstand the consequences of your mistakes.” He could almost laugh. He had been punished his entire life, for his ‘mistakes’. It hadn't changed when he'd turned eighteen. The whip broke his skin and pain rippled up his spine. He sucked in a breath. The noise, that tiny intake of air, seemed magnified in the silence of the room. His mother's feet stopped in front of him again. The handle of the whip slipped beneath his chin and lifted his face to look up at his mother. She searched his face and looked disappointed in what she saw there. “You know I do not enjoy this, but you must learn.”    
  
“Yes Mother.” She stepped back. Three quick strikes tore at his skin. “Send me once more. I will not fail you again,” he uttered when her hand rose again. She made the tiniest noise like she was considering it before stepping back and sitting down on the chair a few feet in front of him. He watched her as she nodded.    
  
“I know that you will not fail me again, my son.” Her eyes gleamed as she smiled at him. She dismissed him with a wave of her arm. His back was raw and weeping as he walked down the corridors to his room. He laid down on his side and stared at the wall until the pain faded and sleep took him.    
  
-   
  
Nabila woke him as the sun started to rise. He rolled onto his stomach when she touched the light cloth he'd laid on his back the night before. He wasn't surprised that she was there. His mother had always sent her to check on him. She'd been his doctor since he was a baby. She was probably the only person that he trusted.    
  
The cloth was pulled free with a slight tug. He heard the soft gasp she made. He hadn't thought it was that bad. He'd had worse and he was sure he would again. The wounds didn't even hurt as she wiped a damp cloth across them. She continued working her way from his shoulders to the small of his back. He didn't feel a thing. He rolled over when she touched his side.    
  
“You are lucky, child,” she smiled softly at him. He looked at her amber eyes and frowned. She laughed, a twinkling sound, and pulled his wrist into her lap. Her thumb brushed over his pulse point. A tender gesture he’d never seen from her. She looked down then up into his eyes. “Be safe,” she said before leaving him to get ready.    
  
He dressed carefully. He pulled his mask back over his head, but the torn cloth did nothing to hide his face. The boy had already seen his face, there was no need to hide it. People watched him as he walked down the hall, he knew that word had already spread of his failure. A few would be waiting for the word that he had failed again, waiting to step up and take his spot.    
  
He spent the plane ride working on his plan. He knew if he could get the boy on his side that everything else would fall into place, but he wasn't sure that he would be able to convince him. He did not like that feeling. As he landed back on the flat Kansas ground he relaxed, free from the eyes of the league.    
  
The boy was home alone. He'd seen his parents leave that morning after the boy had left for school and they hadn't yet returned. He crept over to the tree growing up the side of the house. It was easy to climb, he could see spots where the branches had been worn down from use. He sat outside the window and watched as the boy moved around his room getting ready for bed from the looks of it. He opened the window when he left the room and slipped in. He was careful of the floorboards that creaked and waited behind the door. The water faucet turned off and he listened to the light steps as they walked down the hall. As soon as the door shut he struck.    
  
He covered the boy’s hand with his mouth and pulled him against him. He struggled, panicked noises coming from beneath his fingers.    
  
“I am not going to hurt you,” he said. His English felt strange on his tongue, it had been years since he'd used it. “If I let you go will you listen to me?” the boy nodded. He had to believe him. His plan wouldn't work if he didn't. He let go. The boy spun. He dodged the punch aimed at him. It broke through the paneling next to his head. He held up his hands and stepped away. He could see the heat building in his eyes.    
  
“I am not here to kill you. I am here to help you.”   
  
“Help me? You just tried to kill me.” He wasn't sure how to explain his change of heart. He had been sure that the boy would understand. He looked at him as the boy glared with his blue perfectly human eyes. “How do I know this isn't some trick?”   
  
“You would be dead right now if I wanted you to be.” He kept his hands up until Jon shook his head as if he didn't like what he was thinking, he was starting to believe him. “The league still wants you dead.”    
  
“The League? No they don't. My da- the league are heroes, they don't want to kill me.” The boy barely caught himself from announcing his parentage. He shook his head.    
  
“Assassins, the League of Assassins,” he corrected.   
  
“That's a fairy tale. The league isn't real, Uncle Bruce told me himself.” He stared at the boy. He blinked a few times. He'd never been told he didn't exist before, it felt strange.    
  
“What do you think I am?” he asked holding out his arms so the boy could get a look at his outfit. “The league is real. They have put a contract out for your head. It is my mission, if I fail again they will send someone else until you are dead. So you need to die.” The heat was back. He stepped back and tried not to react. “I can help you fake your death,” he said calmly.    
  
-   
  
An hour later they were sitting on the floor staring at each other.    
  
“Okay yeah. I guess that'll work, but I have to know… Why are you doing this?” Jon asked.    
  
“Because you do not deserve this.” He'd spent a week watching him dance in the kitchen with his mom to music that was older than the truck he drove to school. He'd seen him race his dad around the fields. Each race had started with him tripping his father and ended with him taunting the man as he won. He'd watched him laugh and smile with his friends from school. He'd seen him talk to every animal on the farm as he fed them like they were part of the family. He'd seen all of that and yet for some reason the universe had thought Jon’s other half should be him, a weapon waiting to be used. He deserved better than that, than him.    
  
Jon looked at him, he tried to keep his face blank.   
  
“Okay, let's do this.”    
  
A nervous laugh escaped as Jon threw his lamp on the ground. He knocked his school books to the ground. Damian bumped the dresser a few times, it scraped across the wood floor. He opened the window. Once they'd made it look like a struggle had happened Jon stopped in the middle of the room.    
  
“Do you trust me?”    
  
“Not really,” Jon said but held out his arm.    
  
“Are you sure I will not need that rock?”    
  
“Yeah. My powers don't work like that. Just make it quick.” He pulled out a blade and looked at Jon's face, his eyes were closed tight as he braced himself for the pain. He sliced across his forearm, an echo of the tear resonating from his own arm. Jon opened his eyes and stared as the blood flowed and puddled at their feet. “Don't forget the bag,” Jon said and headed for the window, arm still dripping blood. He grabbed the pack and followed him out. 

“How long again?” Jon asked. He looked pale in the shadow of the silo. It was on an abandoned farm miles away from Jon's home.    
  
“Five days,” he said. “There was a date in the file, I think whatever she wanted you gone for happens on that day. When you go back, ask them not to tell anyone you are alive? It is important.”    
  
“Okay.” Jon fiddled with the gauze wrapped around the wound on his arm. It had already closed by the time he'd gotten to wrapping it. He'd known since he first felt the throb of the Kryptonite in Jon's shoulder that they had a soul bond. He had been hoping the universe hadn't been that cruel.    
  
“Hey Damian?” Jon called as he started to shut the heavy door.    
  
“Yes?”    
  
“See you later.”

\---

****  
Jon was pretty sure that he should be dead. He focused on not tensing up as Alfred pulled the needle through his torn skin to draw it together- knowing that if he couldn't keep himself from steeling they'd have to pull out more kryptonite and that was the last thing he wanted. So far he had managed to only break one needle. Alfred hadn't said anything as he replaced it and continued working.    
  
He could barely hear his father and Bruce talking outside of the study in the entry hall. He had tried once but he couldn't go for super hearing without hitting some of his other super buttons- thus the needle. So Jon watched them. His father paced back and forth, his shirt still stained where Jon had leaned into his chest. Worry and anger more than apparent on his face. Bruce was calm. He always was. But his eyes turned hard when he looked back at Jon and Alfred, who was sealing the patch with a clean bandage. “I believe that is the best that can be done as of now, Master Jon.” He told him heavily, his face a little more easy to read.    
  
Jon sat up slowly and his father and Bruce started back towards them. “Thanks Al.” He told him, smiling as bright as he could to get him to stop looking at him like that. “I'm fine, really.”   
  
“You shouldn't be.” Bruce frowned, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets than the frown on his face. “Even with your accelerated healing, that much Kryptonite could still cause a significant amount of damage. But even still…”   
  
“Do you think the suppressors…?” his father's question hung awkwardly in the air and everyone looked anywhere except for Jon, letting it go unanswered. It wasn't something they liked to talk about. The entire incident that led to the suppressors being needed was still too fresh even three years later.    
  
“The real question here is who wants to kill Jon,” Bruce said decidingly. He held his hand out to Jon and helping him to his feet so they could all follow Alfred to the kitchen. They sat at the table and Alfred brought Bruce and Jon cups of steaming tea and his father a mug of dark coffee.    
  
“He must have been watching us," his father said after taking a drink. “I didn't hear him at all. He knew when I wouldn't be tuned in, knew that Jon would be in the barn on his own.”    
  
Jon stared out the window. He watched the sun begin to creep over the top of hill, setting the Gotham skyline on fire outside, as his father filled Bruce in on what had happened. He touched his shoulder softly, already feeling the sting of his skin trying to knit itself back together. He could have killed him. The boy. He had the kryptonite. He had stabbed him. If he had shifted a little to the left then that would have been it. He chose not to kill him. But why? “He looked scared,” he said over whatever his father was saying. Then men stopped and looked at him. “When I pulled off his mask he looked scared. And mad.”    
  
His dad reached over and squeezed his arm. “Did you get a good look at him?” he asked.    
  
Yes. Jon felt like he had seen his face a thousand times before that minute and had forgotten until he saw him again. He had a squared jaw, locked into a permanent scowl. A cut through his right eyebrow that left a little while line up to his hairline. And his eyes. They were so green and so clear that Jon felt he could have read his every intent if he had gotten to look a little bit longer. “He was hot,” he said without thinking. Cheeks flaring, Jon swallowed hard before he cleared his throat. “I mean that's all I really saw. The… uh, attractive...ness.” He took a drink of his tea and then looked at Bruce and flushed even harder.    
  
Bruce raised an eyebrow at him but turned to his dad. “Jon should stay here.”    
  
“What?” Clark’s hand tightened on his mug involuntarily and it shattered all over the table. Alfred stepped up with a new mug, mopping up the mess quickly and without a word.    
  
“We don't know who is after him.” Bruce said calmly. “We don't know what they look like or when they will come again. We do know that they know where you live, and judging by the kryptonite, they also know what you are.”   
  
His father fidgeted, obviously unhappy with that plan. “He can go to Metropolis with Lois.”   
  
“They'll track her, likely they used her file and biography to find your farm to begin with.” Bruce looked at Jon then. “He should stay here. At least until we figure out what is going on. And definitely while we are off world.”    
  
“I have a test tomorrow,” Jon said numbly. “Pre-Cal. I've been studying all week.”   
  
“We have to leave tonight,” Bruce reminded Clark who looked at his son debating until finally he replied.    
  
“We promised Jon he could have a normal life.” The words were heavy on his shoulders. “With the repressors, after everything. Let him take his test, finish the week.”   
  
Bruce nodded, “Dick will pick him up tomorrow.”   
  
-   
  
“I don't need to be kept in Gotham,” he complained when they landed back at the farm. Jon had stormed inside to where his mother had already left a note saying breakfast was up to them today. He was annoyed by the entire conversation that had happened that morning. They always talked about him like he wasn't in the room. Like he was a problem waiting to happen.  “I wasn't prepared last time. Now that I know what's coming-"   
  
“Jon,” his father sighed, starting a pot of coffee and leaning against the counter. “I'm not saying that you can't take care of yourself. But you shouldn't have to. This is not what normal teenage boys have to worry about.”   
  
“Well I'm not a normal teenage boy,” he grumbled pulling the milk out of the fridge. “Maybe that's not, like, the worst thing in the world.”   
  
His father watched him silently as he ate his cereal and went upstairs to get ready for school. His arm hurt as he pulled on his flannel, tugging at the bandage enough to be annoying. He put on his glasses and double checked to make sure that none of the gruesome morning was left on his skin before he ran back down the stairs and grabbed his backpack, forcing himself to hug his father goodbye through his annoyance.    
  
-   
  
He was distracted all day at school, unable to stay focused on anything but the slightly decreasing pain in his shoulder and the green eyes of the boy from that morning. He had looked scared. But not of Jon, and not even of his father. No, what he had been scared of was unrelated entirely and Jon needed to know what it was.    
  
He drove home more awake that he should be and welcomed the distraction of his chores. He didn't want to think. He wanted to be done and try to remember everything they had gone over in their pre-cal review that day.   
  
His mom was staying in the city on assignment so it was just Jon and his dad. Dinner was quiet and Jon went up to get ready for bed without much of a fuss. He was brushing his teeth when the first sting hit him, peeling across his back in such a surprise that he yelped and dropped his toothbrush to the floor. The second one was worse and then the third. He stopped counting after that. He hadn't even realised that his dad was in the bathroom with him until a full minute had passed after the last one. “I'm okay,” he panted, the full ache of the imagined blows running heat up his back. “I… I don't know what happened.”   
  
“Maybe we should go to Bruce,” his father told him helping Jon back to his feet.    
  
“No!” he said too quickly making his dad’s face turn questioning. “N-no, Pa, I'm fine. If it happens again we’ll go. I promise.”   
  
-   
  
He didn't sleep that night. His back hurt and his mind was too full to rest. He managed to make it through breakfast with his dad without letting on how tired he was. As soon as he left to meet Bruce for their league meeting, Jon dragged through his morning chores. His back didn't hurt any longer, but all that did was raise more questions. Why had it hurt to begin with? Was it a left over effect from the kryptonite, or was this something else entirely? And why was Jon so sure that it had something to do with that boy?   
  
He was pretty sure that he failed his pre-cal test.    
  
He got ready for bed early after he ate whatever casserole that his mom had left in the fridge. He knew that Dick would be by early tomorrow and he didn't want to drag through another day or have Dick come and find him and see what a wreck his room was. Jon had always had always liked Dick. He was nice, and if Jon was being honest- he was probably the hottest person that he had ever seen, at least until…    
  
He shook his head and washed his face, shutting the light off before he even left the bathroom. He walked down the hall exhausted, shutting the door to his room before he was pulled back into someone's chest, a hand over his mouth. He struggled, but the arms held him hard and still. “I am not going to hurt you.” His voice was softer than Jon had been expecting, that was weirdly what relaxed him. “If I let you go, will you listen to me?” Jon nodded. As soon as the assassin released him, he threw a punch right through the wall, anger starting to boil behind his eyes. “I am not here to kill you, I am here to help you,” he told him with his hands up circling back towards the window.    
  
“Help me?” Jon demanded, anger flaring again. Everyone was always trying to help Jon. Baby Jon who couldn't help himself without making an entire town explode. “You just tried to kill me,” he told him, but the heat had left him. “How do I know this isn't some trick?”   
  
The boy twitched an eyebrow at him, an attractive smugness painting his face as his hands remained up in a continued surrender. “You would be dead right now if I wanted you to be,” he told him matter of factly.    
  
Jon thought about the knife. How he had forgone stabbing him through the heart to hit him in the shoulder. Wounding him so that his father wouldn't pursue him. He clenched his fists and listened to him.    
  
-   
  
He spent the five days silently, knowing that if he so much as breathed wrong his father would come flying to him in anger and grief that he wasn't mentally ready for. Guilt hit him hard just thinking about it. How it must have looked when Dick got to the house and found his room destroyed, window broken and his blood…   
  
He looked at his arm and frowned, the wound had closed in the first couple of hours but there wasn't even a scar. Nothing to show any evidence of what had happened, which was exactly how he needed it to be. He waited until the morning of the fifth day and kicked off of the side of the silo, floating easily into the air. He had forgot to take his suppressors with him, another thing to feel guilty about, and he felt power surge around him as he took off in a shaky flight toward the farm.   
  
His mother was sitting at the table, staring at the clock on the wall, a cold cup of coffee clenched in her hands. Dick leaned against the wall next to her. His eyes darted to the door as Jon pushed it open. “Holy shit, Lois-” and she was on her feet and in front of him faster than his dad could have ever hoped to move.    
  
She hugged guilt further into him and he held her tightly as she whispered, “Oh thank god,” over and over again. She pulled back and held his face in her hands, looking straight across at him with thirsty watery eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Did they hurt you, all of that blood-"   
  
“I'm okay,” he swallowed past the lump in his throat. “He didn't hurt me, he-"    
  
The door burst open again and his father was there in his suit, looking as though he had flown around the world a hundred times. He lifted Jon off the floor, hugging him hard enough to break him of he hadn't hardened himself. Then he was back on his feet, and his father was looking through him, trying to determine the damage that had been done to him. “Dad, I'm fine,” he told him firmly grabbing his arms. Dick was muttering into his phone in the hallway, telling Bruce that they had found him.    
  
“I know.” His father breathed in relief after a moment. His eyes hardened, “Why are you fine?”    
  
“He came back,” Jon told him as Dick walked back into the room. His face turned red as he felt Dick doing his own examination. “He told me that he wasn't going to hurt me but he had been sent to finish the job. So we wrecked my room. He told me to hide out for a few days while they came to check…” He trailed off, watching his parents and Dick exchange confused looks at each other.    
  
“Bruce is on his way,” Dick said finally.    
  
“Honey why don't you go take a shower?” His mother told him sounding exhausted, clearly stating to her son that it was time for the adults to talk.    
  
-   
  
He sat at the top of the stairs listening to them argue in the kitchen. They spoke in hushed tones, but Jon was out of pills and tuning in was entirely too easy. “Why would Jon have gone along with it?” His father demanded, anger lacing his voice, making Jon wince knowing that he had put that disappointment there. “He's a smart kid. He knows better than to-"   
  
“He's a kind kid too,” Dick interrupted. “He was told that something bad would happen, so he did what he could to protect the people he loves. Maybe it wasn't the right thing, but it was a choice he made with good intentions.”    
  
“Those intentions distracted Clark long enough for hundreds to die,” Bruce said in the same hard tone that he always had. “It doesn't matter how it was meant. It happened. And we can only assume that this boy will come back. And maybe next time he won't be feeling so charitable. “    
  
His mother sighed. He heard the kettle start to steam right before she took it off the stove. “Maybe it's time that we consider taking Jon off the suppressors.”    
  
“No,” his father commanded.   
  
“That boy snuck up on him twice,” she continued. “That's two times our son could have been killed when there is no reason-”    
  
“No, Lois,” his father said again, kinder this time. “You weren't there the last time. You didn't see…”    
  
“He stays on the suppressors,” Bruce said and it was final. “But I don't think that we can ignore that whoever is after him might be back.” There was a beeping noise. “I went by your apartment in Metropolis on my way here. It has been entered. Nothing was taken or moved but they were there.”    
  
“So what do we do?” His mother asked.    
  
-   
  
Dick found him on the top step when all was said and done. He sat next to him, frowning at his hands as he asked. “So how much of that did you hear?” Jon shot him a look and Dick nodded. “Right.” They sat there silently for another minute before he continued, “You know they are only doing what they think is best.”   
  
Jon turned away from him, not wanting him to see him pout. “My friends are here,” he told him, trying his best to keep a hold on the range of emotions that were lighting up the super parts of his body. “My school is here.”   
  
“Gotham has great schools,” Dick offered with a little nudge of his elbow. “Maybe not so great kids,” he admitted. “But with you there, they at least have one.” Jon didn't say anything. Dick sighed. “It's only temporary. Your dad and B think it's best that you learn how to defend yourself without the powers. Bruce is the best option for that, and no one will think to look for you in Gotham. This will all blow over in a few months and then you'll come back like nothing happened.”    
  
“Yeah,” Jon mumbled. But that was the problem. It had happened. What if Damian came back and couldn't find him? But that was stupid. Why would he come back?


	2. Chapter 2

  
  
**CHAPTER TWO**

  
The stone beneath him was cold and his legs were numb from where he'd been kneeling before his mother's throne all night. Damian hadn't expected her to believe him when he had returned with the news that he had completed his mission, it was why they had created the scene after all. But he hadn't expected her to keep him in her room for the entire night while she sent someone to check. He shifted slightly and tried to ignore the hunger building in his stomach. He listened to the light footsteps as the messenger she'd sent returned. The woman spared him a glance before continuing to his mother. Fear struck through him that they'd made a mistake. His mother's eyes landed on him as she listened to the report. He knew he could show none of the doubt coursing through him.    
  
“Mother,” he whispered when she stood. He could beg and plead for his life, but he knew it would make no difference. If they had made a mistake, if she'd found out. He'd be finished. They'd be finished. She stalked forward. He watched her, tamping down on the anticipation rising within him.    
  
“I knew that you would make me proud.” She ran her hand through his hair and he tilted his head back to look up at her. “Now go see Damas, he is waiting for you.”    
  
He rose and walked carefully from the room. His legs were unsteady from his position on the ground and his stomach was unsettled from hunger, but that was nothing compared to the wave of relief that flew through him. They had succeeded.    
  
It was dark when he walked into Damas’ chamber. He reached for his sword and dropped when he sensed a blade cutting through the air. He fought. It did not take long for his eyes to adjust to the dark. He could tell by the way his opponents moved that they were just students, but that meant nothing in the moment. He fought them as he would any other opponent. It was the way he had been taught. As he swung a backhand across one of the boy's jaws he remembered when he was five and his grandfather had done the same to him. He had failed to lift a sword that was as tall as he had been over his head. As the last student fell to the floor clutching their side, the room lit up and Damas stepped forward. He greeted the man warmly. The man started to apologize, but caught himself before it could be seen as the teacher questioning his mother. Damian asked the man how his students were doing like he hadn't bested the five of them tired and on an empty stomach.    
  
-   
  
His mother summoned him a few days later. He had been counting and knew that it was the evening before Jon was to return to his family. Every day since he had returned she had kept him busy. Damian had barely slept for the training and discussions that had been forced on him. He knew that she did not trust him fully. He was not sure what more he could do at the moment to earn what trust he'd held before he'd made his decision.    
  
She took him to a ridge that overlooked a large bridge leading into a city. Once they were there she took out two pairs of binoculars and handed him one. He took in her smile then turned to the bridge. There was a security escort beginning to cross. Black SUVs surrounded a town car with flags on the front. He focused on that car. He knew that he'd seen the man in the passenger seat before. His photo had sat on the top of the papers on his mother's table a few days prior.    
  
“That is President Leung with his wife and daughters,” his mother said. He glanced over at her, but she was still focused on the binoculars. “The president has been fighting my plans for his country. He's here to sign a peace treaty. If the treaty is signed it will bring a stability to the region that hasn't been seen in centuries.” He watched the man make one of his daughter's dolls dance. The girls laughed. “He will not make it to the table. Your success ensured this.”    
  
The car shook suddenly. Damian zoomed out and saw as the bridge began to crumble. The security vehicles scrambled to figure out what was happening, but they couldn't stop the ground from literally falling out from under them. He watched as the happy faces in the town car turned to fear before they dropped out of his line of sight. The bridge was gone. The cars that had been on the structure had already been swallowed by the river along with all of the people that had lined the streets to watch the precession.    
  
“It is time to go.” He stared at the river, a guilt that he'd never felt before simmered in his chest as he turned to follow his mother. He didn't dare look back.    
  
-   
  
It had been two weeks since that evening. He had been careful. He checked reports on his mother's table as she spoke with him. He listened to rumors. There had been no news that Jon had survived, but he couldn't let himself relax. He took a quick mission, one of their leaders had failed, his mother had given the man a second chance to correct his mistake, but he had failed again. He fell beneath his blade the next day. He returned to his mother that night. Damian wanted to leave, to go to the boy, but he knew that she was testing him. He followed her directions for the next month.    
  
There was trouble, a growing unease amongst some of the groups. His mother left to deal with them personally and sent him on a mission. He knew it was the opportunity that he needed.    
  
The boy wasn't at the farm. It looked like no one had been there for weeks. He wasn't at the apartment in the city. He had known that once the Kents discovered he knew their secret they might leave, but he had held out hope that he'd been wrong. If they moved then the school would have sent his records to his new school. The school's firewall was about what he'd expect from the only school in the county. Jon's records were there and there had been no formal request for them. He backed out of the system and as he was hiding any trace that he'd been there he noticed a hole in the security. He followed the thread, it was shaky, but it led him to Gotham.    
  
But he had spent too long on the search. He rushed to get back. The man his mother had sent him to kill didn't even look up from his dinner as he walked up behind him.    
  
-   
  
It took another week for him to get sent back out on a mission. He spent his time watching the woman as she went about her week. She bought flowers and a loaf of bread on the last day. The flowers were beautiful. He took the time to smell them and finish filling the vase before leaving. He left the door open, his mother wanted the woman found quickly.    
  
After that she sent him out without showing any signs of her suspicion. He was grateful when one of his missions was not far from Gotham City itself. He knew he had to be careful. His Grandfather had told him about Gotham when he was a child. It had sounded like one of the fairy tale lands his mother had read about to put him to sleep. It was also the only time that he thought his Grandfather might be afraid of something.    
  
Damian roamed the shadows of the city and knew he was not alone in them. He had seen figures moving in the night sky. He watched out for them, but was careful to avoid them. He spent his nights watching them move shadow to shadow and his days searching the city.    
  
On the third day he saw him. Jon was walking down the street with a boy and girl that looked like they were a few years older than Damian himself. He followed them. The buildings made it easy to keep watch on them from above. He was sure that the two were a couple, the blonde girl had her arm hooked in the other boy's. They seemed strange. Jon said something and the girl looked up at the other boy before she burst out laughing. Jon frowned and said something back. At this, the guy draped his arm over Jon's shoulder and tugged him in. Damian frowned. He didn't like him touching Jon. A few blocks later they walked into a parking garage.    
  
-   
  
He'd seen military installments with less security than the mansion he'd tracked them to. He was careful as he slipped onto the grounds. It was late, most of the windows were dark. He crept around the outside careful to stay in the security dead spots until he found the right room.   
  
There were cameras trained on every entrance. Damian climbed onto the balcony and crouched on the cement railing. It kept him barely out of the camera's watchful eye. Jon was on his bed reading a book. He chewed on the end of a pencil and frowned every few seconds as he wrote down notes on a pad next to him. Damian had told himself earlier as he watched the car drive away that he simply needed to make sure that Jon was someplace safe, and he was. He didn't know if anyone else would have been able to get as close as he was. Jon yawned. Damian smiled and shifted back. He had been there long enough. A thorn caught on the back of his arm. He drew his arm away and the thorn tore at his skin. He looked back and Jon was sitting up rubbing the back of his arm.    
  
He waved when Jon looked out the window. He didn't know why he'd done it, except it almost felt like Jon had been looking for him.    
  
Jon waved back reflexively. He yanked open the balcony door a second later.    
  
“What are you doing here?” Jon asked as he slipped carefully into the room. “Wait,” Jon shut the balcony door and leaned against it. “How did you find me?”    
  
“I looked.” 

Jon looked at him for a second then burst out laughing. Damian stared at him eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He didn't like this feeling. “Oh. Sorry. Bruce is going to be so pissed.” Jon pushed out the desk chair, pointed to it, then sat down on his bed. “They aren't still after me are they?”    
  
“No. The plan worked and the mission was a success,” his eyes dropped from Jon's as he spoke, a bubble of guilt twisted in his chest.    
  
“People died. You didn't tell me people would die.”   
  
“I did not know,” Damian told him. “Would you have rather you had died?” Jon was quiet. He looked torn between being glad that he was alive, and the guilt that people had died. Damian wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't ever felt this way before. “They would have died even if we hadn't done this,” he added after a few minutes. Jon frowned and picked at the knee of his pajama pants.    
  
“Why did you come here?” Jon finally asked.    
  
“We have a soul bond?” he said, hating how his voice lilted in question. He knew Jon felt it, he'd seen him react minutes before.    
  
“We're soulmates?” Jon asked with a laugh. He didn't believe him, that much was clear. Damian’s mother had given him an extensive lesson on bonds. The strengths and weaknesses of each type and how to use them to his advantage. He knew bonds were rare, but they were common enough that he thought everyone had been taught about them.    
  
“We have a soul  _ bond _ ,” he persisted.   
  
“Yeah, that's what I said. We're  _ soulmates _ .” Jon was laughing this time. 

He still didn't like that feeling. He started to dispute it, but heard footsteps. He froze and stood up. “Someone is coming,” he whispered. 

Jon's eyes widened and he pointed to the floor. He looked to where he was pointing and back at Jon's face and shook his head helplessly. “Get under the bed,” Jon hissed.    
  
“Master Jon?” a British voice called as soon as Damian had crawled under the bed. Jon shifted and the mattress creaked.    
  
“Hey Alfred.”    
  
“Master Bruce said your door sensor went off. Is everything okay?” Jon's foot dropped down as the man stepped further into the room.   
  
“I just needed some fresh air. This sh- _ stuff _ is turning my brain to mush,” Jon whined. 

He followed the man's footsteps across the room and watched as he peered outside before checking the lock on the door. “Master Timothy said the same thing. He survived. I am sure that you will as well.” He got a feeling that the man was laughing at Jon. He watched the man's feet as he walked back to the door. “Do not stay up too late,” the man added and shut the door behind him. Jon's face swung down to look at him. He glared when Jon's face lit up in a smile.    
  
“Big bad assassin hiding from a seventy year old butler,” Jon said as he fell back onto his bed chuckling to himself.    
  
Damian crawled out and straightened his shirt as he stood.“I could go confront him now,” he declared and stepped toward the door. Jon grabbed his arm. He had a knife out and pressed against Jon's throat in an instant. Jon let go of his wrist. Damian stepped back putting the knife back in its sheath. “I am sorry,” he muttered, shaking his head. He hadn't meant to do that. “I should go.”    
  
“What? You just got here,” Jon pressed his fingers against his neck where the tip of the knife had been. He hadn't broken skin, he was sure of that, but he didn't like the look of fear in Jon's eyes. “Don't leave yet?” As he asked, the fear slid out of his eyes. He knew in that moment that Jon felt it too. He felt that same pull, that need to be with him. It was the pull that had Damian risking everything only to check that Jon was okay.   
  
“What are you studying?” he asked after a few minutes. He looked behind Jon to the pages now scattered on the bed.    
  
“Calculus. This stuff is worse than Kryptonite,” Jon groaned. Jon pulled the book onto his lap. Damian sat down on the bed next to him and looked at the pages. He had studied this years ago. 

He spent hours explaining it to Jon, who caught on faster than he'd expected for how much he had complained about the subject. “You're a good teacher,” Jon told him through a yawn. He set his pen down and rubbed his hands over his face. “Oh man, is it really that late?” Jon asked. He glanced at the clock. He should leave.    
  
“You're coming back right?” Jon asked when he stood.    
  
“Yes. I will be back,” he intoned. Jon snickered as he slipped out onto the balcony.    
  
-   
  
He returned to the league with a bruise along his jaw where his target had gotten a lucky punch. He'd been thinking about Jon's fingers. The fight and the man hadn't lasted long after that, once his sword had slid between his ribs after the target had landed the punch. He was angry with himself. He hadn't had someone strike him in years and an accountant had managed to bruise him. He announced his success and demanded another mission as soon as he stepped into his mother's chambers. He hadn't done that since he was a child. Damian sunk to his knee when she turned from the pages she was reading, ire in her eyes at his interruption. She touched his jaw gingerly, fingers sliding over the already darkening bruise. “I think I will be able to find something for you.”    
  
She sent him away without giving him his mission. The bruise had faded by the morning. He stared at his reflection. His mother was sure to notice. When she summoned him he slid a half mask up over his mouth and nose, it hid his unblemished skin. She tutted at him about vanity before she tapped him hard on his cheek. He winced like she wanted, but kept his eyes on her and listened closely to the details of the mission.    
  
-   
  
Four days later he was back in Gotham. He waited until night had fallen and the lights went off before he slipped back up to the balcony. The cameras had moved, he barely had any room on the ledge where he would not be seen. Jon was at his desk. He looked to his side and an idea struck him. He pressed his thumb onto one of the thorns and watched as Jon stuck his finger in his mouth. It took a second before he looked over to the balcony door and smiled around his thumb.    
  
\---   
  
It was always weird for Jon to see Bruce in casual clothing. He knew that the jeans he was wearing probably cost the same as the old truck his parents had gotten him for his sixteenth birthday, but they were still jeans and he was still Bruce Wayne. He sat next to him at the table, slowly pushing the last of his cheerios around in his bowl, trying to keep the staring to a minimum. His mind was still circling around Damian sneaking into his room the night before. He couldn't help but notice how much he looked like Bruce, same hair, same eye shape, different color. Same strong jawline that he could just-   
  
“Something on your mind?” Bruce asked, the tiniest hint of a smile poking at the corner of his mouth as he glanced up from his newspaper.    
  
Jon flushed, staring down at his milk. He could do this. “B,” he started, swallowing hard, “You know, like, everything about everything right?”   
  
Dick snorted as he walked into the kitchen in a pair of sweatpants- and nothing else. “He  _ thinks _ that he does.” Dick grinned, taking the mug that Alfred offered him with a huge kiss on his cheek as he hopped up onto the countertop. Alfred pretended not to notice.   
  
“I know a lot about a few things.” Bruce told Jon while glaring at Dick.   
  
Jon put his spoon down and clenched his fists in his lap. “What do you know about… soulbonds?”    
  
Alfred dropped the kettle that he was polishing and Dick choked on his coffee. Bruce paused and folded the paper back up before laying his piercing gaze on Jon. “Why do you ask?”    
  
He glanced at the other two who quickly busied themselves and tried to fix an innocent look on his face. “I, uh, heard someone at school talk about it. I thought they were kidding or something but they said it was real. That they, uh…” he rubbed his arm where he remembered the thorn scratching Damian the night before. “feel each others pain? But my Ma and Pa never told me about soulmates. I always just kind of thought they weren't real.”   
  
Bruce looked uncomfortable as he nodded. “Soulmates aren't real.” Bruce told him and glanced at Alfred. “Soul  _ bonds _ , however, are. They're rare. But they are real.”    
  
“How rare… exactly?” he asked trying to keep his heart from pounding out of his chest. He hoped that his father wasn't listening. He didn't want to have a conversation about this one later.    
  
“Extremely,” he said with a stone calm, watching Jon with a close curiosity. “There are three types of bonds. Mind bonds, body bonds, and soul bonds. Body bonds are the most common. A few members of the League have this. It's useful in a fight. When you are body bonded, you know where your partner is at all times. Even when they are across the galaxy.”   
  
Jon knitted his brows together, “How do you know?”   
  
“Baz and Jess are body bonded.” Dick told him taking a sip of his coffee. “We tested it.”    
  
“Mind bonds are less common but not so much so.” Bruce continued, plowing through the information. “Mind bonded people can hear each other's thoughts, sense strong emotions. It can be a blessing and a curse.”   
  
“But don’t tell that to Steph,” Dick warned him. “She thinks that her and Tim are the most perfect couple that ever existed.”   
  
“Aren't they?” Jon asked confused.    
  
Dick made a face and clenched his chest like Jon had just shot him through the heart. Bruce hid a smile of his own and continued, “Soul bonds, though, are extremely rare and dangerous.” Jon sat forward a little unable to hide his eagerness. “People who are soul bound share each other's pain, and with that pain shared, their wounds heal much faster.”   
  
“That doesn't sound so bad.” Jon muttered, his heart settling a little. That was a good thing. He'd be able to feel if anything happened to Damian. And if it was really bad then he would find him.    
  
“No,” Bruce agreed but he frowned, “But there is a drawback.” Jon's heart dropped again. “Soul bonds are so intense and so connected, that if one of them dies, the other does as well. Most people who have a soul bond wish they never had one. But it's nothing that you should worry about.”   
  
Jon wanted to throw up. “Why?” he asked wondering if he was as pale as he felt.    
  
“You're half-Kryptonian.” Bruce told him, unfolding his paper to where he'd left off. “Bonds are a human thing. I doubt you have anything to worry about.”   
  
-   
  
He stayed in his room for the rest of the weekend, telling Bruce and Alfred that he had a lot of studying to do and that he didn't want to be interrupted. He was freaking out. He was freaking out and he didn't know who he was supposed to talk to about it. He couldn't tell his parents. He couldn't tell Bruce. If they found out that he was soulmates with the assassin that had tried to kill him then they would lock Jon away and never let him see Damian again- probably ever. And it wasn't like he could call Damian.   
  
He had to talk to someone who would understand.    
  
There was a knock on his door a few hours later and Tim stuck his head in, a calculus book tucked under his arm. “Hey Jon.” He smiled at him. “Alfred said you were having trouble with math?”   
  
Jon jumped off of the bed and pulled Tim into the room, shutting the door securely before turning back to a very confused Tim. “Bruce doesn't have the rooms bugged does he?” Jon asked. He suddenly felt very self conscious about the dream he had had last night and the way he'd dealt with it that morning.    
  
“No, he learned better when Dick was your age,” Tim told him tossing the book onto his bed and crossing his arms. “What exactly is going on here?” he asked.    
  
Jon was breathing heavily, the weight of the lie heavier than anything that he'd ever felt before. He scratched at his wrist, the small red cross that had appeared there had just been a weird mark two days ago, but now… Tim watched him, eyes widening in immediate understanding. “Tim…” he pulled up his sleeve and showed him the mark. “I think I'm in trouble.”    
  
-   
  
Tim listened attentively and Jon threw up everything. Everything that had happened, the attempted assassination, the return visit- staging his death and then Damian hunting him down and tracking him to the manor. He told Tim how cute he thought he was and about the pull he felt whenever he was around. And when he finished, Tim sat there silently processing while Jon’s heart went haywire.    
  
“So, let me make sure that I'm getting all of this,” he said finally and Jon nodded, sitting on his hands to keep still. “You are soul bound to the guy who tried to kill you?” he nodded. “But he doesn't want to kill you any longer?” Jon shook his head. “He snuck into the manor and helped you with your Calculus homework?” He nodded again. “And he promised that he would come back?”    
  
Jon swallowed hard, the tone of Tim’s voice making him think that this might not have been such a great idea after all. “You won't… you won't tell B...Will you?”    
  
Tim watched him, his lips pressed so tightly together that it looked like they had disappeared completely. And then Jon knew it was a horrible idea. He had messed up. They would move him across the world and he would never see Damian again and it was all his fault. His father would never let him use his powers. He would have to live his dull, normal life knowing that his soulmate was out there somewhere with someone else, not missing him at all.    
  
He jumped when Tim put his hand on his leg, pulling him out of the downward spiral that was dragging him under. “I'm not going to tell Bruce.” Tim said.    
  
Jon let out an air of relief. “You're not?” he squeaked.    
  
Tim shook his head. “I think you should. Probably sooner rather than later. If there is one thing I know about Bruce it's that he will figure it out, and things will turn out better if you jump on that grenade before it goes off. But I won't tell him, that's for you.”    
  
“Do you think he'll be mad?” Jon asked. He was more scared to tell B than he was to tell his parents.    
  
“He won't be happy.” Tim shrugged. “But this isn't something that you really get a choice in J. And Bruce adores you.”   
  
-   
  
He stood at the mouth of the cave, trying to work up the courage to take the first few steps in. He clenched his fists and tried to channel Tim. He was always so cool and collected no matter what. He was right. He needed to tell Bruce. He needed to get this off his chest so they could figure out where to go from there. It would be fine. He shook his head and held his chin up and pushed in. “Hey B?” he called walking past the empty computer chair.    
  
“In the medical room.” He called back.   
  
Jon climbed the stairs slowly, nerves starting to crawl back under his skin. “B, I wanted to-" he paused when he pushed open the door and saw the Green Lanterns of Earth staring at him.    
  
Jon had never met Jessica or Simon but Dick and his dad always talked about them like they were both great and horrible. The best people to have at your side… though you might want to add a couple more just in case. Jon always like hearing about them, particularly Jessica. She had anxiety and had struggled to control her powers for a really long time- Jon connected with that. Now she was smiling widely at him, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall watching Bruce, now cowl-less, stitching up Simon's arm. “Oh, are you Jon?” she gushed. “Your dad was just telling us that you were staying in Gotham! How cool is living with Batman?” She grinned.    
  
“It's… um, really cool?” he asked looking at Bruce who smirked and Baz laughed.    
  
“Ignore Jess,” Baz told Jon, radiating so much cool and confidence that Jon could feel his face reddening the longer he looked at him. “She's the world's biggest nerd.”   
  
“At least I'm in one piece,” she told him sticking her tongue out at him, but the way that Simon rolled his eyes at her told Jon that he would let her mock him anytime, any day.    
  
“You're just in time,” Bruce told him waving Jon over. “Hold this tight.” He told him passing over the needle as he got out of the chair to get whatever else he needed in the next room.    
  
“So how is it really?” Simon asked watching Jess follow Bruce out the door. “Living with the Bat?” Jon made a face and Simon laughed holding up his good hand. “Don't worry, I won't say anything. I'm sure you miss your parents.” Jon stared at his wrist, a green triangle small and bright in the center. The same one that would be on Jess. Simon raised an eyebrow and passed it over to him, letting Jon hold his wrist to get a better look. “That's my bond mark.” He told him. “Bruce said you asked about them the other day.”   
  
Jon nodded and let his wrist go, holding his own tight against the side of his leg. “How long have you…?”   
  
“I got it the night I met Jess.” He shrugged. “Didn't even notice until I felt like my body was half a mile away from me the next morning.”    
  
“Did it hurt?” he asked.    
  
Simon shook his head. “Not at all.” He laughed and glanced through the windowed wall that looked over the cave where Jess and Bruce were talking as he rummaged through a drawer. The way he looked at Jessica was almost painful, like he was staring straight into his chest and seeing the most intimate parts of his heart. “It's the easiest and best thing in the world.    
  
-   
  
Jon didn't tell Bruce. He spent the rest of the week in long sleeves and hoodies, glad that his school uniform had a jacket. He left the doors to the balcony open as he studied. After the first couple of days, Alfred stopped coming to check and make sure he was okay and stuck to watching the cameras.    
  
Jon went to bed disappointed every night for a week. When Friday rolled around he didn't bother with the door, taking his anger out on some stupid thesis essay about the most boring book in the world. He was about to give up and go to bed when something pricked his thumb. He stuck it in his mouth without thinking but he didn't taste any blood, just salt and pencil eraser.    
  
His eyes shot up. There was Damian standing on the ledge. Jon couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he jumped up from the desk. Heart leaping into his throat as he opened the door and yanked Damian inside. “You came back!” he said hating how stupid he sounded.    
  
Damian frowned at him. “I said I would come back,” he told him like it should have been obvious.    
  
“Well, yeah.” Jon stammered, feeling the thread of red creep up his neck, “I just thought… you know with your job, you might-" he stopped, eyes finally catching up with his mind. Damian’s arm was wrapped in the same place that Jon's had been hurting all week. He hadn't even thought about that being something that happened to Damian. He felt like an idiot. “Are you okay?” he asked, smile falling off his face.    
  
“I am fine.” Damian told him like it was nothing. “I was caught off guard. It won't happen again.”    
  
“Who caught you off guard?” Jon asked. Damian didn't answer. He stood their uncomfortably and Jon decided that it was probably best that he didn't know.    
  
Damian watched Jon's face as he came to his conclusion. To Jon’s surprise, he took his face in his hands and pointed his chin to look up the few inches that he had on him. He couldn't hide the flush then, his entire face heated. He thought for one unthinkable minute that Damian might close the distance and kiss him. Instead he simply held his face and examined him, making sure everything was in the same place as the last time he saw him. “I cannot stay long.” He told him very seriously, softly- essentially launching Jon head over heals at the softness in his expression. “I needed to see you.”    
  
Jon swallowed, his throat dry. “Do you, uh, have like a phone or something?” he asked.    
  
Damian let his hands drop from Jon’s face. “I live in a cave,” he told him uncomfortably heading back towards the window. “Phones do not work there.”    
  
“Then how can I talk to you?” Jon asked following him. “Do you email? Write… letters or-" he stopped when Damian fixed him with a look.    
  
“I will come back.” He promised him. And then he was gone too quickly.    
  
-   
  
He found Dick in the kitchen the next day flipping through a book. He was sitting on the window ledge looking incredibly bored before he looked up and grinned at Jon, welcoming the distraction. “Perfect timing.” He sighed dropping the book. “Jason gave me this book and told me that I had to read it, but it's so boring,” he whined. “Like this chick keeps saying how much she hates Mr. Darcy but she's totally into him. It's frustrating. And Darcy is the worst.” He rolled his eyes.    
  
Jon smiled. “You've never read Pride and Prejudice?” he asked.    
  
Dick shrugged. “I grew up in a circus. Reading wasn't the top of my priority list.” Jon sat on the window next to him and Dick looked him over with a knowing look. “You were looking for me?” he asked even though he already knew.    
  
“Yeah,” he laughed nervously. “This might be kind of weird, but... “ He sucked in a deep breath and launched the question out at him as fast as he could. “Do you know if B has any, like, old comms laying around that he doesn't need?”    
  
Dick raised an eyebrow at him. “Why do you ask?”   
  
“I have a… friend back in Smallville that I want to talk to.”    
  
Suspicion flickered across those blue eyes, “Does your friend not have a phone?” he asked.    
  
“No, they do!” he insisted and forced himself to take a minute before he cleared his throat. “It's just, you know… comms are… cool.”    
  
Dick laughed at that and stood up. “Comms  _ are _ cool.” He agreed and pulled him up. “C’mon. I think I can find a few that B won't miss.”   
  
\---   
  
It scared Damian how much Jon trusted him. It had been a week since he'd seen Jon. He wanted to go back, but he wondered if it wouldn't be better for both of them if he stayed away. He knew that no one had followed him, but the more comfortable he got the more likely he was to make a mistake and lead the league to Jon.    
  
Even as he tried to convince himself that he shouldn't go he was working out how long he could stay in Gotham on his next assignment.    
  
He disabled a section of the fence and the grounds beyond it and rushed to the balcony before it turned back on. Jon wasn't in his room. He was sure that he was there, he'd seen him go in after getting off of school. He waited in the shadows of the house until the lights from the room changed. He crept up and looked in the window. Jon was unloading his bag onto his desk. He pulled himself up and knocked on the door. The camera had been shifted and there was a gap big enough for him to stand in.    
  
“Is your wrist still injured?” Jon asked, he reached for his arm but stopped before touching him. He held his hand out and let Jon unwrap his wrist.    
  
“It has healed, but it should not have,” he said and studied Jon while he paused and looked at the mark on his wrist. Jon pressed his thumb against it, covering it before he started to rewrap his wrist horribly. Damian let him finish before undoing it and redoing it correctly. “Did no one teach you first aid?” he asked.   
  
“I know some things, I'm just not very good at it. Not all of us get injured all the time.” Jon snapped at him. 

Damian felt his hackles raising, but forced himself to calm down. “It is only training,” he said quietly. 

Jon made a small noise. “I have something for you,” he said and turned for the table by his bed. He hadn't even noticed how close they'd been standing until Jon had stepped away. He held out a small device. He took it out of his hand. It looked to be an outdated communication device. “This way we can talk,” Jon said. He looked so hopeful that Damian didn't really have the heart to tell him he wouldn't be able to use it. “They are tuned to each other. Dick made sure so that our conversations wouldn't interfere with anything else.” Jon slipped his in. “Test it.”    
  
He put his in and shifted his jaw at the strange feeling. “Can you hear me?” Jon asked. He heard him double.    
  
“Yes,” he whispered.    
  
“This is so cool isn't it?” Jon pulled the comm out. He pulled his out and looked at it. He had to admit that it would make things easier if he didn't have to go days without knowing anything and didn't have to fight his way through the ever changing security gauntlet that was the manor. “Do you have to leave already?” Jon asked.    
  
“I can stay another day,” he told him and slipped the comm into his pocket.    
  
Jon looked surprised when he turned to him. “Really?” 

He nodded.    
  
-   
  
He sat at the desk while Jon sat perched on the edge of his bed. “How is that possible?” Jon asked, eyes full of wonder.    
  
“I studied and trained. My Grandfather was preparing me to take over after him.” 

Jon yawned again, but he didn't seem to care how late it had gotten. “You don't talk about your dad,” he said after a few seconds where he had clearly been trying to decide whether he should ask or not.    
  
“I do not have a father,” Damian replied. 

Jon's leg dropped down. “Everybody has a dad. It's simple biology.” He frowned and looked down at his lap. “I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about it.”   
  
“My mother talked about him when I was very young. I do not remember much, but I remember that she always smiled. Then one day she stopped smiling and never talked about him again. It is… easier to believe that I have no father.” Jon looked like he was in pain. Damian gave him a small shrug. “My Grandfather raised me as if I were his son.”    
  
“As an assassin?” Jon asked. He couldn't seem to comprehend that he'd spent his entire life in the league.    
  
“Yes, Jon. I was his grandson the assassin.” He smirked.    
  
“And you just kill people?” 

The smirk dropped off his face. He knew the question that Jon really wanted to ask: ‘ _ how _ ’. “You were raised to be a hero, to save lives and always think of others?” Jon nodded with a shrug of his shoulders. “I was raised to be a weapon, to be the death of my enemies before they forced death on me. It is all I am, all I have known.”    
  
“How many people have you-?” Jon asked. He watched his eyes for a few seconds before looking down at his hands.    
  
“I do not know,” he answered.    
  
Jon's phone chimed. He looked down at it, eyes widening slightly. “That was B. He says I should be asleep. You should go, but let me know where you're at tomorrow. I'll find you after school.” Jon touched his arm carefully. He looked back at him. “Tomorrow. Okay?”    
  
Damian nodded, throat feeling oddly tight. “Tomorrow.”    
  
-   
  
“Hey Damian?” he jerked awake. He looked around for a second before remembering the comm that he'd slipped in his ear before settling in for the early morning.    
  
“Yes?” he replied.    
  
“I have an idea, but you'll need different clothes.” 

He looked down at his clothes and frowned. “What is wrong with-”    
  
“Nothing is wrong. You look great. You just won't fit in.” 

It wasn't hard to find a clothing store and rid them of a jacket and pants. He had infiltrated places before in clothing much different than these, but he felt unease waiting just inside the door of the building Jon had sent him to. The lady at the desk was watching him as he paced back and forth in front of the doors.   
  
“Sorry, I had to ditch Tim and Steph.” Jon rushed to tell him when he finally slipped through the doors. “I told them I had an assignment. Which is technically true even if it isn't due for another two weeks.” Jon was babbling. Damian couldn't help but smile at him. “And you're giving me a weird look. Let's just...” Jon said and started over to the desk.    
  
The lady looked between them when Jon told her they were from Gotham Academy. He tried to look as bored as he'd seen all the other students who'd come in before Jon. She handed them small slips of paper. Jon peeled the back off his and stuck it on his jacket. Jon huffed at him and took his to do the same, smoothing it down before letting his hand drop. “Now let's go find some art I can write a paper about.”    
  
-   
  
“I don't get it,” Jon said for the fourth time. They had been standing in front of the painting for ten minutes. Jon stepped to the side and crouched as he looked at the painting. Then stepped to the other and did the same thing. He looked back to Damian. “Explain this one oh mighty knowledgeable one.” Jon had been griping at him for the past few hallways after a guide had stopped to let his tour listen to Damian's explanation of one of the paintings.    
  
“I do not know either,” he admitted. “It is white paint on a white canvas.”    
  
“On a white wall,” Jon added.    
  
When they reached the end of the last hall Jon sighed. They walked back down the hall toward the entrance. “I wanted to show you something you wouldn't have seen before.” Jon said when he asked what was wrong.    
  
“Themes and styles are common through most art. I have not seen these pieces before. So I did see things that I had not seen before.” Jon frowned at him. “I had never seen a Caravaggio in person until today,” he said and looked over to Jon. “Thank you.” Jon touched his arm.    
  
“What are they doing here?” Jon gasped a moment later. He looked where Jon was staring and saw a boy in a jacket not unlike the one he'd stolen and a girl in a purple sweater standing at the entrance of the museum. His free hand shifted toward his knife in his jacket pocket. “I told them I'd be fine. Of course they don't believe me. Umm. Can I introduce you to them? They have a bond too. Not like ours, but the thoughts one.” Jon frowned. 

Damian’s fingers tightening on the sleeve he still hadn't let go of. “They are your friends?” he asked. Jon had spoken a few times about the family he was living with, but he was very vague about who exactly they were. Jon nodded and with a small adjustment he looked like he was marching off to war as he pulled him toward the entrance.    
  
“Jon,” the girl said with a smile. The boy was staring at Damian. He frowned and gripped the hilt of his knife tighter. The boy blinked and looked over to the girl.    
  
“You said I could meet you at the manor,” Jon accused.    
  
“We wanted to make sure you got home okay. I'm Stephanie by the way,” she held out her hand to Damian. He would have to let go of his knife to shake it. He considered it for a second before letting go and shaking her hand. “This is Tim. He's not a complete asshole most of the time.” She chuckled softly to herself. “How long are you in town?” She asked. 

Damian glanced over to Jon. “I have to leave tonight,” he said. He hoped he didn't sound as disappointed as he suddenly felt. He hadn't even meant to come and now he was dreading leaving. He didn't know what was happening to him.    
  
Tim's phone chimed. “B keeps texting. We should go before he starts asking questions.” Jon shifted and looked upset for a moment. His eyes narrowed at Tim. Stephanie pulled his arm. “We'll be right outside. Let you say goodbye.” When the door shut and they were left with as much privacy that a museum lobby on a weekday provided, Jon looked over at him.    
  
“We'll talk right? You'll let me know you're okay? And when you're coming?”    
  
“I cannot keep it on me. But I will try.” He touched Jon's cheek, brushing his knuckles along the line of his jaw. He didn't want to remember the upset look on his face, but it was all he had. “Stay safe.”    
  
“You too,” Jon insisted when Tim knocked on the glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> __  
> **A Look Behind the Scenes of Chapter Two**  
>   
> 
> In the bonds conversation that Jon has with Bruce at the Manor- Alfred and Dick react so strongly to Jon asking about soulbonds because his parents were soul bound. When his father was shot, his mother felt it immediately. The wounds that she sustained after were not fatal, and if they had not been soul bonded then Bruce would still have a parent. 
> 
> On a lighter note- Tim wasn't tapping onnthe window. Steph was being annoying and dying over watching Jon and Damian be cute. So he smacked his face into it. 
> 
> _'Oh my God. They are just looking at eachother and he's touching Jon's face! Why dontnyou touch my face anymore, Timothy?'_
> 
> _*Tim bangs head against the window and ruins the moment.*_


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

  
He left the comm on every night, just in case. He was pretty sure that Damian wouldn't use it, but Jon felt better knowing that he had it. It was uncomfortable at first, the pillow pushed it against his ear causing him to wake up in the middle of the night with a dull ache at the side of his head. But he left it on every night for a week until he had to pack his bags for Thanksgiving with his parents in Metropolis.    
  
He swallowed hard looking at his pale face in the mirror as he clicked the comm to talk to the empty static that he usually got from the other end. “I'm leaving for Metropolis today,” he told the static. “Just in case you come looking, I'll be with my parents.”    
  
He waited for a moment, not fully bringing himself to hope that Damian would answer him. He still hadn't expected the disappointment that rushed through him to be so crushing. “Be safe,” he muttered before he took the comm out and tucked it into a large sweater in the middle of his bag. He was pretty sure that Dick had told Bruce that he’d given Jon the comms, but he still felt like he needed to hide it anyway.    
  
A knock on the door pulled him out of his head long enough to look up and find Bruce standing in the open doorway, already dressed for a day of driving. “Are you ready?” he asked, sounding like he was anything but ready to take Jon back to his parents.    
  
Jon’s heart sank, the lack of reply from Damian making this break feel more and more like forced isolation- but he managed to smile for his godfather. “I'll meet you downstairs in a minute. I just need to grab my school stuff.”    
  
He dragged his feet on the way down, trying not to feel as hopeless as he did. He was excited to see his parents- he really was, but he couldn't ignore the fact that it had taken Damian three weeks to find him the last time. Alfred waved to them at the door as Bruce grabbed one of Jon’s bags and set it in the trunk of the sleek black porsche in the driveway. He looked at Jon through the corner of his eye and tossed him the keys, making the boy blink at him in surprise. Jon clutched them to his chest, disappointment shoved out of him at the thought of racing down the highway. 

“Are you for real?” He demanded. He grinned like an idiot and jumped a little from where he was still standing behind the trunk, not wanting to move if Bruce took it back.    
  
And Bruce smiled. Like he actually smiled - taking ten years off of his face and the world off of his shoulders while effectively rendering Jon breathless. His parents had told him that when he was a kid he would walk around and tell them that Bruce was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. It had been such a common occurrence that when he was fourteen and came home with his first boyfriend his parents weren't even surprised. His father swore up and down that he'd never told Bruce about it, but Jon was positive by the way the man was blushing now that he had to already know.    
  
-   
  
He stared out the window of their apartment on the thirty fourth floor of one of the countless buildings that towered over Metropolis. Bruce had stayed the first night with them, playing games begrudgingly and watching a few holiday movies before he managed to get out with the excuse of a meeting next day.    
  
After Bruce left, things were pretty quiet. He helped his mom cook and change out the guest room sheets for his grandmother. She would be in the city until New Year's to spend time with his mom after his dad took him back to Gotham. It used to be weird thinking about her as his grandmother, knowing the one from his world was gone and that this wasn’t the mother his father had grown up with. But she accepted the little family with love and without question, and Jon knew that even out of time, she was the same grandmother that they had lost before. 

They didn't bother setting up a Christmas tree, no one would be there to enjoy it. So Jon stared out the window and let his mind wander to Damian. Wondering what he did for the holidays, or if assassins were even allowed to have holidays? He wondered what his parents would say if he brought Damian home. Would they even give him a chance? He was pretty sure his mom would if she didn't know about the whole killing thing, or she would at least try. But his dad…    
  
“Who are you thinking about?” his grandmother asked with a knowing tone, yanking him out of his head enough to realise that he had been floating off the bay window. His face went red and he immediately fell back down to the cushions but not before his father walked into the room and frowned at him.    
  
“N-no one Grams,” he said too quickly, trying not to look as guilty as he felt.    
  
“Did you realise you were doing that?” His dad asked with his brows knit together. Jon shook his head even though every part of him wanted to lie. His father frowned. “You took the suppressor this morning?”   
  
“Yes sir.” Jon nodded. He'd taken two. He'd been taking two for a few weeks but the hazy feeling they usually gave him always wore off within a few hours. Part of him thought that it was because his power was growing, but the other part knew it was because of the soul bond. The accelerated healing was making the medicine run through his system faster than it used to. And he didn't know how to bring it up to Bruce without telling him about the bond.    
  
“He's a growing boy,” his mother said coming in behind his father with three mugs of cocoa and a coffee. “Bruce probably just needs to make a few adjustments.” She winked at Jon and kissed his father’s cheek effectively calming him back into his good mood.    
  
-   
  
He had two more weeks of school and of silence before they were out again for Christmas and New Years Break. Bruce was busy setting up a fundraiser for the company. So most nights it was Jon and Alfred for dinner unless Tim stopped by while Dick and Bruce were on patrol.    
  
Dick took Jon out with him to run a few errands a few days before the gala. They stopped by the event space to drop off a few things to the coordinator before he dragged Jon over to a very fancy looking department store across the street. “Alright, gala rules 101,” Dick told him as the man at the counter led them to the young adult section. “As the ward, or even scholarship student, of Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises- you always need to be the best dressed guy in the room.”    
  
He let Dick dress him for over an hour. He vetoed a horrible baby blue suit and a bright red one that matched the color of his face when every sales associate came over to appreciate it. “Please don't make me wear this," he begged Dick under his breath. Dick rolled his eyes and sighed like he was hopeless but agreed to put him in something more subdued.    
  
He came back out of the dressing in a satin royal blue suit with a red pinstripe shirt and a matching tie and pocket square. Dick raised his eyebrows and grinned at him. “How does it feel?” he asked.    
  
Jon frowned and moved his shoulders up and down. “Tight?” he asked and Dick walked up behind him, running a hand over the shoulders of the jacket. He had grown over the last month. His mom kept saying at least two inches but he hadn't noticed until Dick stood next to him and was maybe an inch shorter. Dick pressed at the sides of his ever broadening shoulders.    
  
“They'll take the jacket out a little bit,” he told him. “And add another inch to the pants.”    
  
Jon nodded as Dick went to talk to the tailor leaving Jon to look at his reflection. He looked like his dad. Everyone always told him that, but this was the first time he had ever felt like he was the son of Superman.    
  
-   
  
The suit fit perfectly when he got dressed the day of the gala, letting Alfred run a comb through his hair and do what he could to keep it out of his face. He'd gotten a pair of new red chucks to go with the suit. He'd insisted that if he had to walk around in dress shoes all night he would start floating involuntarily until Dick gave in. He was walking out of his room when he stopped at his still packed bag, remembering the comm that was tucked into his sweater. He placed it in his pocket not knowing why he bothered and headed down the stairs.   
  
Dick and Bruce were waiting for Jon in the entryway, stopping mid-conversation as he came to a stop in front of them. Jon pushed up his glasses feeling self-conscious, “When did you grow up?” Dick asked but Jon shrugged and let them pull him out the door.    
  
He stood in the corner watching as everyone started to file into the brightly lit dance hall. It looked so much like the epitome of Christmas that Jon couldn't help but take a few stupid pictures and send them to his parents. Everyone looked amazing, strangers all around him wearing furs and diamonds as big as quarters. He had time to wonder how much everyone had spent on that evening before the doors were shutting and champagne was being passed around.    
  
Jon let it pass him and Tim found him with a glass of sparkling cider poured into a flute glass that could have paid for his college tuition. He passed it to him, shooting a look at Stephanie making Jon wonder what she had been thinking at him. Then Bruce stepped onto the grand staircase and the entire room burst into applause.    
  
Bruce was captivating. He smiled like it was the easiest thing in the world and welcomed the elite of Gotham to the gala. He made it sound like it was thrown together the night before. People laughed and cheered as Bruce told them about the cause, little pieces of Batman coming through as he talked about the city that he loved. Jon never understood how the people who knew Bruce and his father couldn't see who they really were. At the heart of his father was hope and strength and everything that Superman stood for. It was so obvious to Jon. And it was apparent in Bruce as well. When people saw Batman, they saw a man in the shadows who would do anything for justice and to clear the streets of crime. But when Jon looked at Batman, he only saw Gotham. He saw Bruce.    
  
He applauded with the rest of the crowd when Bruce’s speech came to an end. Everyone relapsed into easy conversations allowing Jon to fall back to his group. He listened to Tim and Steph bicker with Dick. The people around them laughed and hugged old friends, gazing at each other in adoration- except for one pair of glaring eyes at the entrance of the hall.     
  
He choked on his cider and set the glass down on a passing tray before he dropped it. Damian was standing at the entry in his work attire looking like he had fought his way into the building. “You okay?” Dick laughed patting his back to get him through his coughing fit.    
  
“Yeah,” he wheezed and stumbling towards the crowd. “I- bathroom!” he yelped over his shoulder immediately mortified that he had shouted that in a crowd of fancy strangers.    
  
Damian met him at the front of the crowd, only a few people had seen him and were staring actively. “You can't be here right now,” he hissed and grabbed his arm dragging him down the nearest hallway and into a coat closet filled with musty smelling furs and overcoats. Jon fumbled for the light switch and when he managed to get it on, Damian was fuming at him.    
  
“Do you have any idea how long I have been looking for you?” he demanded continuing before Jon had a chance to speak. “I came to find you and you were gone. The entire manor was empty.”   
  
“I tried to call you,” Jon huffed not wanting to fight now that he was finally here. “I wore the comm and waited and talked and you never said anything!”    
  
“I cannot wear it all the time!” Damian seethed looking directly across the few inches into Jon's eyes. “You grew.” He accused.    
  
Jon frowned at him. “I'm sixteen. We do that.”   
  
“I do not like it.”   
  
“I'm sorry?” he asked confused trying to figure out how this had gone so wrong so fast. He didn't want to be fighting. He didn't want to be here. “Look,” he sighed suddenly tired, “You can't be here wearing that,” he said looking down him at the worn travel cloak that would make him stick out like he was wearing that red suit.    
  
“I am not leaving you,” he growled and Jon’s heart fluttered happily.    
  
“Then leave  _ with _ me,” he told him and stuck his head out of the door to make sure the coast was clear. “Meet me out back,”he said and headed back through the ball room. He pushed through the crowd until he got to Dick who was standing in the group next to Bruce, but far enough out of it to not be dragged into conversation.    
  
Dick grinned and pulled him. “How was the bathroom?” He laughed and Jon went beet red again.    
  
“Fine,” he squeaked and stepped out from under his arm. “I'm actually not feeling so great?” He lied knowing that it was a horrible lie but he had to get outside before Damian came back in to get him. “Do you think it would be okay if I went home?”    
  
Dick frowned. “Do you want me to go with you?”   
  
“No!” Jon almost shouted and cleared his throat. “No, I was actually thinking about… flying home,” he added glancing at Bruce who was talking to the mayor.   
  
Dick nodded understanding. “I’ll tell him we got you a car.” He winked and Jon hugged him hard before rushing back through the crowd.    
  
\---   
  
It took him longer than he wanted to admit to get into the coding to track Jon. Whoever had created the system knew what they were doing. Once he found out where he was, Damian slipped in behind a group of people who were hugging and laughing with each other. The security guard didn't even notice him. He frowned in disapproval at the mediocre security. He searched the room until he saw Jon. He was standing there in the Superman’s colors. It was like a punch to the gut, a reminder that he didn't deserve this boy that smiled and laughed like it was as easy as breathing, this boy that was meant to be a hero. That was the moment that Jon saw him, he could feel his eyes on him.   
  
He stepped out of the closet after Jon, but followed his path back to the man he'd been talking to before. He didn't like the feeling that burned in his stomach when Jon smiled at him and the man smiled back. He didn't know how to judge smiles. He hadn't seen enough of them to have an idea, but the man's smile changed his face and Damian found himself wanting to step closer and have that smile directed at him. He slipped out before he could do something idiotic like go drag Jon away from the beautiful man.    
  
“Damian?” Jon called walking out into the alley. He dropped down and hid a smirk at Jon's screech. “What the frick? You trying to give me a heart attack?” Jon pressed on his chest and sucked in a few breaths.    
  
“I was waiting. You do not seem to want to be seen with me, so I thought it would be better to hide.” Jon peered up at him from his hunched over position.    
  
“I can't be seen with you up there. They'll tell my dad,” Jon straightened. “Is that your stomach? Or mine?” Damian looked away. He hadn't eaten in a few days, too rushed to get to Jon while he had the chance. “Yours. Come on. Let's get some food.”    
  
He followed Jon to a tiny diner a few blocks away. It's yellow lights shining through half-frosted windows making the dark streets glow. A waiter stepped up to them as soon as they stepped through the door.    
  
“You can't have those in here,” the guy said pointing to his swords. He pulled one out and pointed it at him. The man gulped and Jon stepped forward pushing the sword away with a single finger. He let it drop. The man puffed himself up, but he could still see the fear in his eyes as he said, “Yeah, whatever. You gonna stab someone, do it outside. I don't want to spend the rest of the night cleaning up blood.”    
  
“We won't be stabbing anyone tonight,” Jon said and looked at him pointedly.    
  
“Not here,” Damian mumbled. Jon rolled his eyes before sitting down at the table the waiter pointed to. Jon ordered a burger. He skimmed through the menu and ordered a veggie omelet. Jon grinned at him. “What?” he asked after the waiter left.    
  
“Nothing, you saying veggie was funny.” He looked out the window to avoid the grin Jon had on his face. They sat in silence until the waiter brought their food. He set the check down with it and walked into the back.    
  
“I'm sorry I grew,” Jon said a few bites into his burger. He chewed on one of the bits of tomato from his omelet. “I'm probably going to grow more,” Jon continued. He pushed a mushroom off to the side. “I'll probably be taller than you.” He looked up from his plate. Jon was grinning at him. He speared a chunk of egg and stuck it in his mouth as he glared at Jon.    
  
“Do you celebrate Christmas?” Jon asked. “Or any other holidays?”    
  
“No,” he said. Jon hummed and ate a fry.    
  
“What about birthdays?” Jon asked like the idea had struck him that moment.     
  
“My grandfather got me a wildcat once.” Jon smiled until he continued. “He killed it the next day to show me I should not get attached to things.” He ate another tomato. “What do you get for your birthdays?” Jon was staring at him, but looked startled when he realized Damian had asked him a question.    
  
“N-nothing,” Jon stuttered. They ate in an uncomfortable silence. He wondered if he should not have told the story.    
  
“Are you going to be in town for Christmas or New Year's?” Jon asked hesitantly, like he was regretting starting that conversation.    
  
“I doubt that I will. I could try?” Jon shook his head and gave him a calculating look.    
  
“It might be better if you didn't. My father will be here. I don't want,” Jon trailed off. He nodded unable to stop the hurt that ached in his chest. “But after! You can come after, when I'm back in school.” Damian nodded and pushed another mushroom off to join the other three on his plate.    
  
Jon placed a few bills on the check once they'd finished. He followed him back out. The waiter was watching them from the back and glared at him as he let the door shut behind them.    
  
“So I'll see you in a few weeks?” Jon asked.    
  
“Yes.”   
  
-   
  
He leaned against the outcropping a few miles away from the league base. It had been a long day, he felt bad enough that he was worried for Jon.    
  
“Jon?” he called into the comm. His ribs ached as he took a deep breath. The silence stretched. He sighed and relaxed as best he could. “I am sorry,” he told the comm.    
  
“Damian?!” he jerked and the pain spiked. “What's happening?” Jon exclaimed.    
  
“I was training,” he said and held his side. He was pretty sure one of his ribs was broken.    
  
“Training? I've felt like I couldn't breathe for hours. Are you okay?”    
  
“I have been better.” He closed his eyes.    
  
“Was that a joke?” Jon asked sounding exasperated. “Of course you make a joke now.”    
  
“How was your Christmas?” he asked, interrupting Jon’s grumbling.   
  
“How was my- oh. It was fine. Are you sure you're okay? You don't sound so good.”    
  
“I will be fine, Jon. Tell me about your Christmas.”    
  
“Oh um, my parents came to the manor. The whole Wayne family was there. It was a disaster, but actually really fun. We had this big elaborate meal. Turkey and dressing. And like all of the pies. My grandma made mashed potatoes. Dick ran around with a giant spoon of them and made everyone taste them. But Bruce wouldn't try any. B gave him this speech about carbs and the amount of butter in them, but as soon as my grandma walked in the room he took a mouthful. Dick cheered like it was the best thing he'd ever seen. It was hilarious.” Damian imagined himself there, watching them as they celebrated. It was peaceful. The pain in his ankle was fading.    
  
“Jason and Steph made us all play board games after dinner. Dick warned them that it was a bad idea to choose Monopoly, but we played it anyway. You remember Tim right?” he nodded but Jon barely paused for a response. “Well he's like some business man. I'm not really sure what he does exactly. But he was terrible at the game. Him and Steph were on a team cause Jason claims that they cheat if they aren't. So Bruce has a few hotels on Boardwalk and Stephanie lands on it.” Jon paused and laughed to himself. “I swear Tim was about to flip the table. But then he stops and points at Bruce and says, ‘I will give you my first born’. There was a moment when everyone erupted in laughter then they realized Steph was touching her stomach. She started laughing when everyone started yelling at Tim. So that was how they made the announcement that she was pregnant.”    
  
“Did the man with the hotel make him honor the proposition?” 

Jon laughed. “No, he did get kind of emotional though. I think. It's hard to tell with Bruce sometimes. After that we stopped playing games and everyone just started making up names. My dad was the worst. He kept coming up with names that could be shortened to sound like Jon. Don, Ron, Con, Lon. Dick had a whole list of names with meanings and everything. Do you know what your name means?” Jon asked.    
  
“To Tame,” he said.    
  
“Yeah. How'd you know that?”    
  
“My mother told me. She used to say it was my destiny to tame the world.”    
  
“That's… nice,” Jon replied hesitantly.    
  
“She told me a lot of things that I should not have believed.” He sighed, his ribs had calmed to a dull roar of pain. It no longer hurt to breathe. “What does your name mean?”    
  
“Jonathan means to give.”   
  
“It suits you,” he said and looked up at the sunrise. The sun would just be starting to set in Gotham. He could see Jon sitting on his balcony watching it set. The colors the sky would change, igniting into fire before fading into darkness. “I am sorry that you are stuck in this bond with me,” he added softly. “You should not have to feel this.”    
  
“You shouldn't either. You don't have to, you know. You could stay here.”    
  
“I cannot leave the league.”    
  
“Why not?” Jon asked.    
  
“Jon,” he sighed. “You would not understand.”    
  
“You could try to explain it,” Jon replied. He listened to the silence that stretched between them. “Have you ever been on a roller coaster?”    
  
“I do not - No I have not,” he said a little thrown from the change in topic.    
  
“We're going on one when you're here next. When your ribs don't feel like someone is standing on them,” Jon declared.    
  
“That sounds nice,” he said as he yawned. “What type of roller coaster?” He fell asleep listening to Jon talk about all the rides that the pier had, and what else they were going to do.    
  
\---   
  
He layed flattened on the mat staring up at the cave, not entirely sure how he had ended up there- but he knew that he didn't want to do it again. Bruce frowned down at him, offering Jon a hand to pull him back up to his feet. “You are distracted today,” he told Jon, not asking him. Jon frowned. He  _ was _ distracted. He was always distracted lately.   
  
He had been woken up at three that morning with a sharp and stabbing pain in his thigh. He was checking the comm every five minutes after that until Alfred came to wake him up for breakfast with his parents. They had headed back to Metropolis. The Waynes were all still there, scattered around the cave watching Jon get his butt handed to him by Bruce over and over again. “Maybe he wasn't prepared to fight a ninja,” Jason called from a chair in the corner of the sparring room. He had his feet propped up on the equipment table as he flipped through a very worn copy of  _ the Road _ . Occasionally he whipped out smart remarks as Bruce tried to walk Jon through the basic defensive moves. “Let him fight someone more on his level. Hey Tim!”    
  
“What?” Tim yelled from the other side of the cave.    
  
“Nothing,” Bruce called back and waved Jason over with a look.    
  
The middle bat marked his page and dropped the book on the table before he kicked up onto his feet. He walked- no- Jason didn't walk. In all the years that Jon had known him he couldn't ever say that Jason walked anywhere. He sauntered over to the mat and kicked off his boots holding his hands up in a smirking surrender as he traded places with Bruce. “Only basic defense,” Bruce warned.    
  
They watched Bruce leave the mat and Jon swallowed hard as he crouched into the stance Bruce taught him. “Don't worry little super,” Jason grinned at him. “I'll take it easy on you.”   
  
He didn't. Jason was huge, slightly taller than Jon with a bulk of muscle that Jon had no idea how to even try and start shaping. There was absolutely no reason that anyone that big should be able to move that fast. Jason faked a hit at Jon's legs, leaving him open to grab Jon by his face and throw him down hard onto the mat. “Jason!” Bruce snapped and Jon shoved his hand off his face, now bright red and mortified. He could feel a heat building up in him but shoved it down hard. A small panic flared in his chest and he shut his eyes to hide the red that threatened to shine through.    
  
Jason smirked. “Sorry.” He pushed himself up and Jason pulled Jon up by the collar of his shirt. “Reflex,” he told him dropping into his stance again.    
  
-   
  
Bruce helped him up onto the island counter and opened the freezer door. He pulled out a bag of peas and shrugged, walking slowly back over to him and placing it on the right side of Jon’s neck right above his shoulder. “Jason can get a little carried away sometimes,” Bruce said by way of apology. It was something that Jon got used to living at the manor. Bruce didn't apologize, he pushed forward.    
  
He moved the ice and tried not to pout as he stared at the wall. He wondered how long it would take him to work up the energy to burn through it so he could hide in the foundation of the house. “You know,” Bruce sighed, “When your dad brought you here, I wanted to kill you."    
  
Jon blinked at him, drawing his brows together. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.    
  
“Because it's true,” Bruce told him easily leaning on the counter next to him. “I didn't know the version of your dad that had come to our world. Having a half-human half-Kryptonian child on the planet seemed like a whole lot of risk for little reward.” He paused for a minute. Jon wondered if this was the part of the movie where the villain revealed his evil plan right before the good guy got away. “We didn't know what your powers would be. We still don't know the full extent of them.” He shrugged like that  _ wasn't _ some huge deal. “I went to visit a few times to see if you were a threat. I watched you for over a year and when the analysis was complete, do you know what you did?” Jon shook his head and Bruce smirked at him. “You asked me to marry you.”    
  
Jon dropped the peas and groaned, putting his head in his hands to hide from the embarrassment. This was officially the worst day of his life and his soulmate had tried to kill him not that long ago. “Okay,” he said jumping off the counter. “I'm going to go die in my room now,” he grumbled grabbing the peas.    
  
“Jon wait.” Bruce chuckled, not moving from his spot while the boy turned in the doorway. “My point is, that you have more power than Jason on any day. I saw it flash behind your eyes, the heat vision?” Jon swallowed hard but Bruce carried on. “You knew that if you steeled yourself to attack you might hurt him. And yet you chose to let him hurt you.” His eyes changed and Jon let his drop to the ground, the shame of almost losing control still heavy on his shoulders. “You are a good kid Jon,” Bruce said finally, walking over and patting him hard on the shoulder “We’ll get through this. Get some rest.”   
  
He climbed up to his room slowly, his heart heavier than his body when he finally made it to the right door. His father and Bruce always made it seem like they were going to help him start to control his powers. It was starting to feel like they never wanted him to use them at all. He pulled out the comm and stuffed it into his ear knowing that Damian wouldn't answer but he talked anyway. He talked about his day, about being horrible at self defense and his fear that no one would ever actually let him use his powers. He knew that he was talking to silence. He pulled the comm out and sighed hard. For the first time in his life, Jon couldn't wait for school to be back in session.    
  
-   
  
It took a lot of convincing but he and Stephanie finally managed to convince Tim to let Jon go to the pier on his own for an hour after school every day. Jon was pretty sure it was mostly Steph’s doing, but she insisted that it was Jon that finally wore him down. He would spend an hour at the arcade, waiting to see if Damian would magically appear again, and when he didn't show, he'd text Tim to come to take him home.    
  
He told Bruce that he was spending the extra time at school in tutorial and he didn't doubt him for a second. Jon hated how used to lying he was becoming and even worse- how good he was at it. Stephanie promised that when Damian did show up she would make excuses to keep him out, but Jon waited every day for two weeks before he had to take her up on it.   
  
He had been in the arcade for almost half the allotted hour before he got tired of losing at skeeball to a twelve year old. He bought a coke and sat at one of the high tables in the corner finally starting to feel stupid. Would Damian even want to come here? He should take him to the museum again or the aquarium or-   
  
“Who is hurting you?”    
  
Jon jumped and blinked at Damian, dressed in new jeans, a sweater and suede jacket that had exposed stitching down the back. He was combing over Jon’s face so seriously that you would have thought he was trying to memorize it. His hand came up to brush his cheek in that odd and intimate way that he had. “I, uh, what?” he asked, Damian’s touch momentarily rendering him stupid.    
  
Anger flared in Damian’s eyes. “Someone has been hurting you. I have felt pain every night this week,” he told him and Jon knit his brows together confused until he remembered the sparring. “I could not reach the communication device to see if you were okay,” he growled and Jon realised that the anger was directed at himself. “I will kill whoever is responsible,” he swore and Jon believed him. “Just tell me the name.”    
  
“Damian, I am fine,” he promised him, his hand clasping onto his wrist, keeping it in place on his cheek. “Bruce is trying to teach me how to defend myself. I'm not that great at it yet.” He shrugged.    
  
“Why do you need self defense?” Damian demanded. “You are the son of the Superman.”    
  
Jon flushed, shame rushing into him again as he remembered his conversation with Bruce last week. As he remembered the incident. He cleared his throat. “They want to make sure that I can defend myself no matter the circumstance. You know, someone did try to kill me recently.” Damian ducked his eyes and let his hand slide off Jon’s cheek. He caught his breath and caught it, lacing their fingers together as he pulled a very surprised assassin to the door and aimed for a lighter tone. “Probably would have if he didn't think I was so cute.”    
  
“I do not,” Damian stammered, eyes widening and blood creeping into his cheeks under the beautiful olive tone of his skin. “I mean I do- but that was not why!”    
  
Jon grinned at him and pulled out his phone. “Hold that thought,” he told him and snapped a picture of the two of them in front of the boardwalk with the rides lit up in the greying sky. Jon was smiling so wide it hurt, his cheeks pushing his glasses up and Damian was staring bewildered at him, cheeks still red from his accusation. He sent the picture to Steph with the script,  _ operation first date is a go. _ To which she sent back a thumbs up and a string of crying emojis. Jon shoved his phone in his pocket. “So.” He turned to Damian who was still holding his hand like it wasn't the biggest deal, “Are you afraid of heights?”   
  
-   
  
“I do not understand why people willingly strap themselves into a death machine that will cause them great fear,” Damian said for the fifth time as Jon strapped him into the rollercoaster before pulling on his own belt. The first couple of times he’d said it he had sounded bored. But the closer they got to actually getting on the ride, his voice got quieter and quieter. They were in the front car, and Jon watched the realization cross Damian’s face as he looked up at the steep climb they were about to make. The attendant came and pushed the bar in, and gave the crowd a thumbs up before he hit the go button and the train lurched forward.    
  
Damian got greener the further up they went. And when they were about half way he turned to Jon. “I do not want to do this,” he told him.    
  
Jon let out an exasperated laugh. “It's kind of too late for that now,” he told him.    
  
Damian sucked in a hard air, his knuckles white on the lap bar. “I do not want to do this,” he repeated as they reached the top.    
  
Jon frowned at him and took his hand in both of his. “Damian, I can fly us off of this the instant it goes bad.” He promised. “You don't have to be scared with me.”    
  
Damian made a face at him, but Jon could tell that what he’d said calmed him slightly. “I am not afraid,” he told him defiantly.    
  
“Good.” Jon grinned at him. They were at the top now. “Put your hands up.” Damian lifted his hands without question, opening his mouth to ask why as they crept over the edge.    
  
They rode the roller coaster two more times before Damian let him take him back to the arcade. Of course Damian also beat Jon at Skeeball. And DDR. And every game that had to do with a gun. He watched in awe as he made it seven tours in House of Horrors when Jon had died on the second level. Kids of all ages stood in a circle to watch the master at work. But overall he seemed very unimpressed by all of them except for Cheese Viking. “I swear I hit that button!” He proclaimed to Jon when he died once again. “I swear. This computer must be broken,” he grumbled. Jon hooked his arm through Damian’s and led him to the snack stand where he got them a root beer and some fries to share.    
  
He listened to Damian rant about the game, leaning over the table on his elbows as he watched him looking more his age than Jon had ever seen. Damian coughed and Jon pushed the drink over to him. He took a big swallow and grabbed his throat blinking surprise as his eyes watered. “What is that?” he demanded, a smile creeping its way into his face.    
  
Jon raised his eyebrows. “You've never had root beer?” Damian shook his head and took another big drink. Jon got them another.    
  
They played a couple of the games along the boardwalk but Damian was too good at all of them until it came to the ring toss. He tried again and again but his frustration only made him worse. Jon on the other hand got them all. He grinned as the man passed him a plastic sword then handed it over to Damian. “For you,” he told him taking a knee and holding it over his ducked head with both hands. Damian took it and Jon watched him exam the poorly sculpted blade. “Is this acceptable, oh powerful ninja master?”   
  
Damian rolled his eyes at him, “Very shoddy workmanship,” he told Jon in a flat tone as he helped him back up, but he could see the sparkle of amusement in his eyes. Just barely but it was there. “But I suppose that any blade is better than no blade.”   
  
He was about to tell Damian how hard he had worked to get him that sword when something hit him in the back of the head. He turned to see a half-eaten hot dog bounce to the wood of the pier. A group college-aged men were walking by laughing as the tall blonde in the middle yelled, “Get a room, fags!” and sent them into another laughing fit.    
  
Jon felt the heat build up behind his eyes and squeezed them shut. This was not the place to lose control. He wasn't going to let one idiot ruin a great day. “Let's just go,” he said opening his eyes but Damian wasn't standing in front of him anymore.    
  
He was in front of the blonde who was a few inches taller than Damian who was six foot even. He had no emotion on his face and when he spoke, it was calmly. “I apologize,” he told him simply. “I am not from this country. I didn't realize that you would be so easily offended by the bonding of two souls.” The man looked like he was about to ask what the frick he was talking about, but Damian brought the plastic sword up hard between the man’s legs.    
  
Jon’s eyes widened as the man grabbed himself and crumpled to the ground. All of his friends taking a step back as Damian squated next to him an a single fluid movement. “The boy you have insulted is very important to me,” he said so softly that Jon was sure he was only hearing it with his powers. “I believe it would be in your best interest to beg his forgiveness.”   
  
The man groaned and glared at Damian. “Dude, fuck you-"    
  
Damian flipped the sword around so that he was holding the blade and used the chunky, heavier handle to smash the man's pinky finger. He yelped and bit his lip holding it to his chest. “I told you to beg his forgiveness,” he muttered again, his even tone teetering towards malice.    
  
The man glared at him again, but ultimately decided that it wasn't worth it because he looked at Jon as he slowly made his way back to his feet. “I'm sorry, dude. Okay?” he told him and cried out when the hard hilt of the sword broke on his knee.    
  
“ _ Beg _ his forgiveness.” Damian hissed.    
  
The man bit back on his pain and fell to his knees in front of him, Jon's face completely red now as people walking passed them were all out staring. “Can you… can you please forgive me?” he begged. Jon glanced at Damian who was only watching him and then back down at the guy kneeling on the pier. He nodded and Damian yanked the man up by his collar and shoved him back off towards his friends.    
  
Damian wasn't rustled at all. He still looked perfectly put together if not a little angry at the encounter. “I am sorry.” he said, looking down at the now busted open sword with regret. Damian sighed heavily. “I have broken your gift.” Jon stared at him. The perfect way his hair fell over his forehead, the genuineness of the sorrow in his gorgeous eyes and the bunch of his sculpted shoulders. Jon knew that what he had done was an overreaction- but it was also the most attractive thing that Jon had probably ever seen. And Damian had done it for him. His soul-bound soulmate. Jon lifted his hand and caressed the underside of Damian’s jaw, holding it there. Damian blinked up at him in surprise. He took Jon’s hand and pulled it off of his cheek, a look Jon didn't understand flashing across his eyes. “Can I show you something?” Damian asked. Jon nodded. He would have let Damian show him a dead body as long as he was holding his hand on the way there.    
  
\-    
  
He did the roll again, sand clinging to the back of his shirt as he pushed his glasses back into place. The tide was gone and the water seemed far away, but he could still see the reflection of it in Damian’s approving gaze from where they stood under the pier. “That was better,” he told him, brushing the sand off of his back. “Remember to move fast, the force will finish it for you.”   
  
“Why are you showing me this?” Jon asked catching his arm as he turned around.    
  
Damian made a face and for a second Jon didn't know if Damian even knew why he was doing what he was doing. Maybe he had to do it. Like Jon. “The next time you spar, they will not hurt you,” he told Jon. And then he made him try it again.    
  
-   
  
The cab dropped them off at the bottom of the hill. Jon did not want to take any chances of Bruce seeing them come in. But he mostly just wanted a few more minutes with Damian. They walked slowly up the drive, not talking, simply enjoying the comfort of silence between them until, “Hey, Damian?” the boy hummed his response and kept staring up at the muggy sky. “I like spending time with you.”   
  
Damian looked at him as he said that and Jon pushed down the flush that wanted to claim him. “Today was rather enjoyable,” he agreed, looking surprised at that.    
  
Pleasure ran through him as he bit at his bottom lip. “Look, I know that being soul bonded isn't the same as being someone's soulmate. But…” he swallowed, “Can I spend more time with you?” He asked. “Like on a date sometime?”   
  
Damian stopped and frowned at him, a sadness that Jon never wanted to see again falling over his face. “I do not think that is a good idea,” he told him softly, and Jon knew that it was because he didn’t want to hurt him.    
  
It hurt anyway. 

  
“Why not?” he asked taking a step back towards him.    
  
Damian stared unmoving at the ground. “I was meant to kill you.”    
  
“But you didn’t.” Jon muttered.    
  
“I still could,” Damian snapped at him.    
  
“You won’t.” Jon had no idea how he had gotten so close, but at some point they had taken steps towards each other. His hand was on the small of Damian’s back. Damian's hand was pressed against Jon’s chest like he wanted to push him away but he was staring at his lips like it was the only thing he could see. He leaned in. The heat of Damian’s breath barely met his mouth when his phone went off. They jumped apart like lightning had struck where they stood.    
  
He had to take a minute to catch his breath before he fumbled for the phone in his pocket, Stephanie’s face lighting up the screen. “Hey Steph,” he said a little breathlessly as Damian pulled him back to his feet again.    
  
“ _ So I just tucked Tim into your bed and told Bruce that you weren't feeling well,”  _ she told him. “ _ I say you have a solid twenty minutes to switch places before Alfred comes to check on you _ ,” she prattled on about something for a minute longer, but Jon didn’t hear any of it. Once Damian had gotten him back on his feet he took Jon's face in both of his hands and crushed Jon's lips to his.    
  
Jon melted. His entire body losing mass and attempting to float away. But no matter how much he wanted to, he didn’t push any deeper. He pulled away, blinking when he realised that his feet were somehow up above his head and Damian was the only thing holding him to the ground. “ _ Jon _ ?” he jumped at Steph’s voice having completely forgot that he was still on the phone.    
  
“I, sorry what?” he said stupidly still staring at Damian.    
  
She sighed and he could practically hear the eye roll from the other end of the line. “ _ Do you think you can manage to sneak in? _ ” she asked again. “ _ I left the side door cracked so the sensor won’t go off _ .”   
  
“Yeah, I can do that.” he nodded but he was mostly paying attention to the way that Damian’s hooded eyes were looking at him again. “Thanks Steph.” he muttered and hung up as she started to say something else. He barely managed to get his feet back on the ground when they were floating off again.   
  
\---   
  
Damian knew that he should have left as soon as Jon said date. But he was stuck. Part of him, that tiny part that had enjoyed watching the lives of his targets, the part that wondered what it would be like to live like them - to be free, wanted this - wanted Jon. So when Jon pulled him in with a single hand on his back, Damian let him, but kept his hand up pressing against the wildly beating heart in his chest, keeping the little distance between them that he could bear to allow. All of his focus fell on Jon's lips as they got closer. His own heart was hammering in his chest as Jon's breath touched his lips.    
  
Then the moment shattered.    
  
Jon stumbled back, tripping over his own feet. He watched him answer his phone before helping him up. Jon's eyes met his for the briefest moment; he pulled him in and kissed him before he could talk himself out of it. He opened his eyes as the kiss ended and Jon was looking back at him. He was floating and if he was being honest with himself Damian understood why, he felt a little like floating too.    
  
Jon laughed softly and stepped backward, but kept floating up. He watched his feet and couldn't help the smile that grew on his face with every foot that Jon drifted backward watching him the whole time.    
  
“When you come back we're going on that date,” Jon called. He was halfway to the gate of the manor. He didn't respond, he couldn't make that promise, no matter how much he wanted to.    
  
“Good night Damian,” Jon called as he floated over the gate with a quick wave.    
  
“Good night, Beloved,” he said quietly. He knew Jon had heard.   
  
-   
  
He caught himself touching his lips as he made his way back to the league. In theory he knew how to kiss. There were people in the league that used the subtle technique to get close to their mark. He'd never had to use that aspect of his training. He'd always been able to find the moment he needed to get his target alone, or he'd simply eliminated anyone that stood in his way. He'd seen his mother use a lingering touch and a flutter of her eyelashes against many an official to guide him down the path she wanted them on. He had never thought what it would feel like to kiss someone because he had wanted to.    
  
A little over a week after he'd kissed Jon, his mother summoned him. He'd been in the middle of a sparring session. The thought that he might get the chance to go back to Gotham, to Jon, had him excusing himself with a promise that he'd return. He all but ran to her chambers.    
  
He dropped to his knee as he always did when summoned. His mother stood slowly and walked toward him. He looked up as she touched his cheek. In her eyes he recognized that same spark of something he couldn't, didn't want to, identify that he'd seen in Jon's on the pier. However hers held a sadness that Jon's had not. For the first time he wondered if it wasn't him, but his father, that she saw when she looked at his face. He found himself wanting to hug her like he had when he was a child and he'd seen the pain held in her entire body after he'd ask about his father. He hadn't been able to understand then, but he could now.    
  
“I have to admit that I was worried about you after your Grandfather's death. I thought the fire within you had died, but you have been eager to help me with my mission over the last few months. I am happy that my son has been returned to me,” she smiled at him before she stepped back and motioned for him to stand. “I have a project that I have been working on for some time now, I'd like your help.”    
  
“As you will it,” he replied. Her eyes narrowed briefly, but she moved on to the table.    
  
“It feels like I have not seen you in ages. I will join you and we will finish this together.” She put a hand on his shoulder as she pulled the folder in front of them.    
  
“I would like that mother,” he replied even as his heart sank.    
  
-   
  
It had been six weeks since he'd last seen Jon. It was the longest they'd gone without seeing each other. He didn't like the flares of pain he felt most days. His attention drifted to Jon more with each passing day. His mother had him watching a warehouse, he'd been watching it for a few days. Nothing had happened. He leaned against his palm and gazed at the walls of the warehouse. Jon had asked him on a date. As the sun started to drop he wondered what they would do. He had realized a few weeks ago that their afternoon at the pier had probably been a date. He didn't know how he hadn't realized it then. Jon had liked the pier a lot more than he'd liked the museum. His stomach flipped at the thought of going back on that horrid roller coaster. One of his targets had spent each night watching films. He thought he'd like to watch one.    
  
He sighed as another uneventful hour passed. All of his mother's intel had said that his target was there, but he hadn't seen any sign of movement. He just wanted to finish this. He wanted to go back to Jon. He pushed off the roof he'd been camped out on and headed for the warehouse. He dropped in through one of the side windows. The air was thick and stale, there was a layer of dust on everything that told him all he needed to know, but he had to be sure. He crept across the catwalk above the main warehouse floor looking for any clues. It didn't make sense. So far everything that they'd received had been correct. His mother was sure that this was the place. He heard a creak echo quietly through the room and started down the stairs, maybe the information hadn’t been wrong. Maybe he had missed something.    
  
He was halfway down the stairs when he heard the metal creak behind him. He spun, sword already moving to block the oncoming strike. Another figure landed further down the stairs behind him. He kicked out and sent them stumbling down the steps. He took a knee to the gut. He growled as he swung his blade and the man gargled, clutching his throat before falling to the ground. A cloud of dust rose from the floor as he hit. Two more replaced the men that had fallen. He couldn't let them close him in. He had to get off of the stairs, but wasn't sure he'd be able to land without getting injured, the ground was still too far below. He tried to push them back, push them closer to the bottom of the stairs. He'd managed a few feet when three more dropped down above him. Time to go. He swung over the railing and dropped to the ground. His ankle twinged as he landed, but it was easy enough to ignore as another man rushed him. He swung a quick arc, slashing the man across his chest before he turned and blocked the man rushing him from behind.    
  
It was a trap. He needed to get out. He ran for the door, but stumbled as one of them dove, catching his legs briefly. It sent him sprawling across the floor. He got to his feet, but the door was too far. That one lucky grab had been enough. He was surrounded. They wanted him alive, uninjured. That much had been clear when he was fighting them. He settled into a defensive stance and pulled his second sword from its sheath. He could almost see the man in front of him smile when he looked at him. They all moved at once. He felled the first wave, but one of them got in a lucky hit. He was stunned for long enough for the hilt of a blade to slam against his temple. The world went black.    
  
-   
  
Damp, stale air filled his lungs as he gasped in a breath. He was still in the warehouse. His arms were bound above his head by thick ropes from a few inches above his wrist to his elbow. He could barely feel his fingers and his shoulders ached from the pull. He tried to shift, but his feet were tied together. They appeared to be chained to the ground. All of his weapons had been removed, if they had missed any he couldn't feel them. His ankle still ached so either the injury had been worse than he'd originally thought or he hadn't been unconscious for long.    
  
“Are you finally awake?” a voice asked. He looked over to see a plain small man walk out of the shadows and into the circle of light that shone down on him. “We were told that the league was after us and that they'd been given false information. Imagine my surprise when I'm told that we'd managed to catch Talia’s bastard.” The man grabbed his chin and brought him close. He hissed and struggled, but couldn't move much, though he had succeeded in getting the man's hands off of him. “I'm sure your mother is worried about her precious son.” The man smiled and pat his cheek. “We'll send you back to her.  _ After _ we see how many secrets you have in that head of yours.” The man stepped back and sat down on a chair in front of him that Damian hadn't noticed. He blinked a few times trying to focus on his surroundings. He couldn’t see much past the circle of light shining down on them from the ceiling. He doubted that they were alone, but he couldn’t hear or see anyone else.    
  
A sharp throb hit him below his ribcage, shocking a gasp of air from his lungs. He had a moment to worry about Jon before he was dumped to the ground, the rattle of chains was all the warning he had gotten. He fell, his feet unable to support him. He tried to move his hands, but couldn't stop his fall and his face hit the cement floor. His cheek throbbed as his nose bled. The chains rattled again lifting him by his arms to his knees. The man shifted forward and stared at him for a few moments.    
  
“Let's start with an easy question. Where is the League?” he kept his mouth closed.  _ I'm sorry Jon _ , he thought when the man stepped forward and touched the tip of his index finger. His finger snapped with a little pressure. He glared through the pain. The question repeated nine more times, he apologized silently to Jon but gave no response each time.    
  
The chains rattled and he was lifted higher, his chest tightening as his arms were stretched. He felt the icy slide of the flat side of a blade against his stomach and looked down at the man.    
  
“Where is your mother?” The man barely paused for an answer before letting the blade slowly tear along one of his ribs. It wasn't a deep cut, but one meant to cause pain. He asked five more times. Each pass getting deeper.    
  
The chains rattled again and he hit the ground. This time the man caught his face inches from the floor and pulled his face up to look at him.   
  
“You will answer me.” He kept his mouth shut and stared blankly at the man.    
  
He lost track of time between the slashes across his skin and the strikes of metal against his back. His thoughts were consumed with apologies and begging Jon's forgiveness. The hook slipped and he was dumped to the ground his arms dropping to his lap. He struggled against his bonds, but his arms were caught and the chain reattached before he could loosen them any. The man checked the hook. Damian felt his fingers slide against the edge of the mark on his wrist.    
  
“What is this?” His blood ran cold at the amusement in the man's voice. He fought, ribs screaming, but it did no good. The man turned his wrist sharply, he felt something in his hand pop. “You're soul bound? Rumor was that your family had no souls,” the man mocked. Damian grit his teeth and tried to pull his arm free. He didn't like the man rubbing his thumb over his mark. It was the mark of Jon's soul on his body, it was only his to touch.    
  
The chains yanked him back into the air and the man stepped out of the light and into the shadows. He closed his eyes after a few minutes. He wasn't sure how long the man was gone but, his ribs didn't ache as much and one of the cuts on his side had closed.    
  
“They can feel this can't they?” he asked driving a blade into his arm, right above his elbow. “How can you do this to them, let them struggle in pain?” The man gripped the hilt of the blade and turned it. He let out a hissing breath. “Tell me what I want to know and this all stops.” The man leaned close to him, he gazed back at him. The man sneered when he didn’t respond and stepped back out of the light.    
  
He heard the click of a torch and looked up to see a bright blue flame shining from the darkness. He moved away as it came closer. This would hurt. This would hurt a lot.    
  
“No,” he whispered, the first noise he'd made since he'd woken up who knew how long ago. The man stepped back and smiled at him, a twisted glee darkening his eyes.    
  
“You know that you will answer my questions eventually. I know your weakness now.” The man stepped forward. He watched his grin spread as the flame flared. He felt the barest lick of heat on his chest. He stared at the man, who stepped forward. The heat sunk deeper as it spread.     
  
He screamed.    
  
-   
  
His cheek stung and he groaned. He shifted and his shoulder wailed, dislocated. He blinked, the bright light burning his eyes as he looked around. The man was sitting with his legs crossed in front of him.    
  
“I apologize. I pushed you a little too far. I thought of something new while you were resting.” The chains dropped him slowly. His feet touched something wet. As he was lowered into the puddle of water he realized what was happening next. The man walked around the puddle, he followed him with his eyes.    
  
“It is no secret how your grandfather lived for as long as he did. The Lazarus Pit does have such unique powers.” The man walked back into his line of sight. “Your mother controls them now,” the man stated and sat back down. He watched Damian hang for a few minutes. He looked around, searching for anything that could get him off of the hook, that could end this.   
  
“You're weak. It's hard to breathe isn't it? Do you think you would survive?” The man followed his eyes as he spoke as if he was telling him that he wouldn’t escape. The cable lying harmless next to the chair sparked to life when the man knocked it with one of the metal bars he'd used to beat him.    
  
“I can give your body back to your loving mother and she could bring you back with a quick soak. But that one,” he pointed to his wrist. “Would they survive your death?” he kicked out, lifting his feet as far as they would go. The man stepped into the water and up to him. His eyes searched his face. “Where is your mother?” the man whispered like he was a friend, like he wanted to help him. “A location and this all ends.”    
  
“Fremont Plaza,” he breathed. The man smiled and gestured. The chains lowered him carefully into the water. He gasped in the musty air as he laid on his back in the puddle.   
  
-   
  
They left him alone. They were watching, but he didn’t care. His teeth dug into his lip, blood leaking into his mouth as he worked his arms over the sharp edge of the hook. He had a few strands left. He paused, hands aching, shoulder grinding in its socket. He took a deep breath and fought through the pain.    
  
“Betrayed by my own son,” his mother's voice echoed through the warehouse. He looked up briefly at the shock of her voice. He could hear the anger laced through her words and fought harder.    
  
“I trusted you.” Her voice was getting closer, but he couldn’t pinpoint the source. It sounded like it was coming from all around him. He pulled, frantic in his efforts, his shoulder was on fire. “When you had first returned from that boy. I was sure that you had put that foolish sentiment aside.” The rope snapped.    
  
“I knew you had not killed him as you told me because you were standing before me. Your life alone proof of your lie.” He tugged at the knot binding his feet. His mother stepped into the circle of light. “I let you deceive me because you continued to honor your duty to this family. You had one final test to pass, to prove where your true allegiance lied.” He shifted back as his mother looked at him. “And you failed.” Her serene beauty twisted as she lunged forward and drove a sword through his side. He kicked out with his bound feet and knocked her free of the sword. He pulled it out, the sharp pain from it was nothing compared to all he’d felt, and slammed it down against the ropes around his feet. His mother stood on the edge of the circle. She watched him with an amused smile, but he could see the anger in her eyes. He stumbled to his feet only swaying slightly. When he held the sword between them, hurt flashed across her face for a moment.    
  
“There is no happy ending, Damian. You are an Al Ghul, our lives only end one way.” She moved out of the light and returned with a blade. “Death.”   
  
-   
  
He clutched his side as he jumped from the fence. The hasty bandage he’d applied had soaked through. He spared a second to look at his hand stained red before stumbling forward. He was close. His ankle was a dull roar in the back of his mind with every step. The security system was sure to be going off, he was triggering it with each step he took. He had no time. He had to warn them. He had to get to Jon. Darkness grew in waves at the edge of his vision with every beat of his heart. He leaned against the wall of the manor below Jon’s balcony, ribs aching as he tried to catch his breath. The few feet above him had never seemed as daunting. He slipped a few times as he climbed up to the balcony. Slick with his blood, his fingers found the edge of the ledge. He pulled himself up and rested for a moment on the cement railing. He pushed up, but his hand slipped and he fell onto the balcony. The world dimmed as pain flared across his entire body. Slowly his eyes focused. The doors were just a few feet away. He dragged himself across the concrete. He didn’t have the strength to get to his feet. It had all leaked out from the wound in his side. The chill of the glass was a relief against his over-hot skin as he leaned against the door. He took a moment to breathe. Then reached for the handle, his fingers sliding on the cool metal. He reached again but missed the handle, dropping down and letting out a moan of despair. The door swung open on it's own and he slumped into the room. The butler was standing above him, looking down at him. He reached for the one knife he'd managed to find, but another hand closed on his wrist before he could reach it.    
  
“That's not smart,” a deep voice rumbled. He looked up to another man. His vision blinking out.    
  
“She knows,” he croaked. His voice was shaky and oddly thick. “Jon,” he cried softly. All of the hurt and betrayal he'd been pushing down since his mother's voice had broken the silence of the warehouse seeped out. He'd been such a fool. He whimpered and tried to move away but solid arms slid under his legs and shoulders. He relaxed at the shushing noise that filled the air around him.    
  
“It's okay. I'm taking you to him,” the man said, gripping him tighter, but not enough to hurt him.    
  
“Do you think that wise, Master Jason?” the butler asked.    
  
“He's not going to hurt him. Look at him. You ready to let the kid die to keep him away from Jon?” Damian tucked his head against the broad chest carrying him. He closed his eyes, giving in to the safety he felt knowing Jon was near. Even if this was another betrayal, he didn't think he'd live long enough for it to hurt him. His side had stopped hurting, nothing hurt anymore.    
  
“I'm sorry,” he whispered and hoped that Jon would hear.    
  
“Oh shit.” He heard as a jolt of pain rushed through him. He opened his eyes briefly to see the manor rushing past him. The darkness haunting the edges of his vision took over as they reached a grandfather clock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A Look Behind The Scenes of Chapter Three**
> 
>  
> 
> The whole date scene was actually inspired by my (prubbs) little brother. Don't make it weird! I took him on a roller coaster that had just been renovated at Six Flags Fiesta Texas. We got to the very top before he started freaking out and telling me he wanted to get off. So I told him that if he put both his hands in the air they would stop the ride and let him get off. So he did it, and we took off like a rocket. They was seven years ago- he still won't go on roller coasters with me♡♡
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Jon was distracted. He fell to the mat again after trying with all his might to keep his feet on the ground as the memory of Damian kissing him slipped randomly into his mind. Bruce looked frustrated when he pulled Jon to his feet. It had been over a month and he still wasn’t able to let go of the feeling, the energy that Damian passed onto him. It burned through his suppressors as fast as he could take them. He had been on constant alert since then, having to concentrate extra hard to stifle his powers even though he was taking his pills like they were candy.

Bruce pat him on the shoulder and stepped back into his stance, reminding Jon with his eyes to focus. He shook his head, forcing Damian to the side but he kept popping up again. Bruce came at him and he moved without thinking, doing the flip move that Damian had shown him under the pier. He stopped with his hand resting flat against Bruce’s chest, holding him to the mat. 

Jon had to force himself to pull his mouth shut as he looked down at him feeling like he had just run up the side of the Empire State Building. “Woah,” Dick mumbled from where he and Jay had been watching them in the corner. 

“How the hell did you do that?” Jason demanded getting up to help Jon pull Bruce to his feet. 

His face was getting hot and he couldn't wait to tell Damian that he had done it. “I saw it in a movie…?” he offered and Bruce narrowed his eyes at him and tapped Jason to keep him on the mat. 

Jon gulped as Jason looked at him, the pure mass of him once again sending a thrill of adrenaline up Jon’s spine. Jason cracked his neck and dropped into his defensive stance. “I’d say this calls for something a little more advanced,” Jason commented with an evil grin. “Let’s see if you can pull that on me.” Jason lunged before Bruce even got the warning out of his mouth. Jon moved to counter him, barely blocking a blow to his ribs but it cost him his footing. He fell hard, but managed to wrap himself about Jason’s feet to bring him to the ground next to him. They grappled, a flailing knot of tangled limbs rolling around in a confused cloud until Jason ended up on top of him, holding him down by his neck. 

The grip wasn’t tight. Jon knew that his life had not really been threatened, but the anger that boiled up his spine did not stop at the base of his neck. It rolled up into his eyes. He tried to keep them clamped shut as he shoved at Jason to get him off of him but the man was too busy gloating to Dick, Bruce, and Tim who had joined them at the wall. “Jason,” he groaned as it threatened to burn through his eyelids, tears were pouring down his cheeks at the overwhelming heat that needed out of him. Jason cut off mid sentence. Jon could only hope that he heard him as he gasped, “Jason move!” and his eyes flew open. 

All that he could see was red as the energy burned through his body in a blast of heat and a shout that ripped from his throat. It happened in an instant but lasted forever, sucking all of the warmth from him and leaving him cold on his back staring up at the hole he had blasted into the ceiling of the cave. He sucked in a heavy breath and coughed feeling like his throat had filled with ash one minute and emptied the next. Jason was next to him, holding the side of his neck. He didn’t look like he was thinking about it at all as he pushed the hair out of Jon’s face. “Hey, hey man. Just breathe, okay?” He told him calmly as strong hands from behind him helped him sit up. 

Tears were still running down his face. He blinked away the black spots that crowded his vision, focusing on Jason’s neck and the hand still clasped to it. “Did… did I-?” he started shakily. 

Jason moved his hand, his red skin barely blistered. “I’m okay,” he promised. “You told me to move. You did good.” 

“You should still let Alfred look at it,” Bruce grunted from right over his shoulder and Jon’s heart sank at the gruffness of his voice. “Dick, Tim.” He nodded to the boys who came over to help Jason up and they walked together toward the medical bay, leaving Jon alone with Bruce. 

Bruce helped him to his feet and walked him over to the computer desk, setting him in the chair there. He had always called it the Batchair when he was a kid, insisting that everything in the cave had to be a bat-something because Dick had told him that once. He had gleefully sat on it more than a few times, but now he wasn’t so keen to be on the throne. He actually wanted to be anywhere but there. Bruce took his time looking Jon over, checking his pupils for dilation and his neck for any mark that Jason could have left on him. He took a step back, the stoic mask hardening on his face as he crossed his arms and looked down at him. “Are you okay?” he asked. Jon wiped his arm across his tear-ridden cheeks and nodded, trying to get rid of the evidence. Bruce let out a hard breath and asked. “How long have the suppressors not been working?”

Jon felt like the air had been knocked out of him all over again. His eyes widened. “B, I-”

“How long, Jonathan?” 

He winced and let his eyes drop, staring at the cave floor as the guilt flooded through him. He swallowed hard. He had known that he couldn’t keep this up forever but it still felt too soon. “Over a month,” he admitted. “Maybe a little longer?” 

Bruce stared at him, letting the smallest flash of emotion break through his facade before it was back again. “Why didn’t you tell your father or myself?” he asked. “I could have made them stronger or adjusted the intake or-”

“I have!” Jon snapped at him. “I took three every morning and when that didn’t work I took five- but they just don’t work Bruce!” He gripped at the chair trying to keep the heat down. “They don’t work anymore. So maybe instead of you and dad constantly telling me about how horrible I am and how I have to learn to conceal and hide- someone should just teach me how to freaking use them!” There was a snap as the chair arm broke off in his hand and he snapped out of it, anger flooding back down to the floor as shame hit him hard in the chest. “I… I’m sorry,” he said and handed the broken arm to Bruce who was looking at him, mask completely gone and sadness carving his features. “I just need to… I’m sorry,” he told him again and headed for the stairs. 

-

He tried calling Damian a few times but Jon knew that it wouldn’t go through. He was sure that Damian would end up showing up again but this was the longest that they had gone in complete silence. He hadn’t even gotten any pain from his ‘training’ in three weeks. Jon stared at the tiny red cross on his wrist and for the first time since he had gotten it, he felt almost resentful. He needed to tell Bruce. He couldn’t go around like this and keep almost exploding and Jon knew that he needed to apologize for what happened earlier as well.

He listened at the top of the stairs, waiting until he heard Alfred and Jason move to the living room before he made his way down to the cave. He took his time to collect his thoughts before he stopped at the now broken computer chair where Bruce was staring at an open document, though it didn’t look like he was reading it. “Hey B?” Jon asked and the man blinked back into himself, his face relaxing as he turned on Jon. 

“Hey chum,” he said softly. He looked sad. Jon hated that he was about to make that worse. “How are you feeling?” Bruce asked as Jon said, ”Can I tell you something?” Bruce frowned at Jon and narrowed his eyes but he said, “You know you can tell me anything.” Jon nodded and swallowed, staring up at the ceiling. He was so jumbled up in his own head that he didn’t hear Bruce approach until he placed a hand on his shoulder. “Jon, what is going on?” 

His heart was in his throat as he sucked in as much air as he could. “I have a soul bond,” he blurted. It was clear that whatever Bruce had been thinking it hadn't been that. He continued before he couldn’t get it out anymore. “With the boy who tried to kill me. Well, didn’t try to kill me. He stabbed me ‘cause he knew dad would kill him- but he could have killed me and chose not to! And then he came back and helped me fake die because he said that the League of Assassins needed me to be dead so that Dad wouldn’t save some president somewhere, but I swear I had no idea Bruce or I would have just let them come and… and, I don’t know. But then you brought me here and he found me and Dick gave me a comm and you told me about soul bonds and I convinced Tim and Steph to lie for me so I could keep seeing him. The suppressors stopped working so well and we went to the pier and he kicked some guy in balls with a plastic sword and taught me that move-- and I haven’t heard from him in almost two months and I don’t know what to do because I think I, like, love him…”  he said finally. 

Bruce’s face got progressively calmer as he rattled on and his grip on Jon’s shoulders would have been painful if he’d had better control over his powers. He watched nervously as Bruce processed what he had told him and finally he asked. “Did you say the League of Assassins?” Jon nodded, feeling light headed, a sharp pain in the back of his head making him feel dizzy. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly, in an almost threatening way. 

“I’m sure,” he whispered. 

Bruce cursed and pushed away from Jon, the dizziness from the moment before starting to catch up with him. He numbly followed Bruce back to the computer and watched as he typed up a few documents and searches. Horrible scenes flashed before Jon’s eyes, deaths and bodies and news clippings that Jon could never unsee. He stood to the side and listened as Bruce made some calls, ending with Dick who said he would be back in a heartbeat. He called his father, but he was off world with the Lanterns trying to sort something out and a little too far out of his reach. Bruce put his head in his hands and let out a hard breath. “Are you… mad at me?” Jon was barely able to ask when the first of the pain hit him in his gut. 

Jon buckled in, letting out something gurgled and guttural that he didn’t know that he could make. Whatever was left of the Batchair had to be broken when Bruce stood so fast that it crashed to the floor. “Jon?” he asked but he sounded like he was standing in a vacuum. His cheek stung and he grabbed it. Bruce kept talking at him but Jon couldn’t hear him. This wasn’t his pain. This was.

“Damian,” he wheezed as his finger snapped but stayed perfectly aligned. Then the next. And the next. Jon glared through it, dragging himself to his feet when the last of his fingers gave in. Bruce was trying to keep him down but he had to get up. Damian needed him. He was being hurt. He was being hurt  _ so much _ . 

He gasped at the cut across his ribs but kept walking, Bruce holding onto his arm like he thought that he could keep him back. “Jon stop,” he told him with a strain in his voice. 

“Can’t,” he gasped as the cut crossed again, deeper. “Damian…” It crossed again and again. He doubled over once more. Bruce let go of him and Jon held onto the pain, letting it grow in him so that he could use it to launch himself out of the cave like he had seen his dad do so many times. He needed to stop fearing his powers. Damian needed him. He needed Jon to find him. He had to use them.

He had no idea how much time had passed with him crouching on the floor, holding his stomach but however long it was was too long. He felt the rage run through him and gripped at the power coursing through him. “I'm coming Damian,” he ground out as Bruce grabbed his arm once again, quickly jabbing him with a needle that pulled him under. 

-

He felt heavy, groggy like he’d slept through an alarm or woken up with a really bad sunburn. He saw orange and knew that his eyes were still closed but he was so tired that he couldn’t bare the chore of opening them. His head hurt. His chest hurt. His ribs, his hands and his stomach- all of it was sore and throbbing and he felt like his chest had been crushed in while he was sleeping. 

He’d had such a horrible dream. 

He groaned as he turned over wondering why the soreness didn’t move with him and gasped when something sharp snagged on the crook of his elbow. What? He reached for it but some kind of large warm glove covered his entire fist. He blinked his eyes open. “No touch, small blue,” a grumbly, kind voice from the shadow above him called. “Make no more hurt,” he said and Jon blinked until the figure became clearer. 

A twisted version of his father was sitting next to him attentively looking down on him with a sad but interested expression. Jon blinked trying to make sure that he was seeing this right and that he wasn’t still dreaming, but he had heard of Bizzaro before. At least he thought he had. He had been told that he was vicious, with all the powers of his father and no control. Jon only had half of his father's power, that he knew of, and hardly any control at all. It made him feel connected to the clone in a way he didn’t know how to tell his dad. He wondered if that was why Jason had been so nice to him earlier. “Where am I?” He asked, his voice thick with sleep as he let his head roll to the side so that he could look at the small fortress he had been brought to. 

“About a mile above Gotham in a floating invisible tech castle,” Jason said as he entered the chamber from a dark doorway that Jon was pretty sure he watched disappear as soon as it closed. He was in his mask. He took it off and dropped it on the table next to his bed. 

Jon’s mind was still fuzzy. He was in the Outlaws lair. That’s why Bizarro was there. But- “Why?” he managed to say. 

Jason looked uncomfortable, torn. “I’m not supposed to tell you,” he said sitting on the side of the bed. His neck was bandaged where Jon had zapped him but he looked fine other than that. “Let’s just say that this is our version of the Doomsday protocol.” He sighed heavily. “The League of Assassins is not something to joke around with and Bruce knows that the very last place they will look for you- is here.” 

“How do you know about the league?” Jon asked him. 

Jason frowned. “I spent some time there after… my time as Robin. I was training with the Alcast.” He shrugged. “They aren’t exactly the nicest people. I’m sure your friend told you that though.” 

And then it all came back to him. The sparring. His confession. The pain. Damian. He shot up bolt right. The fire under his skin ran up through the IV making it boil and the needle broke out of his skin as it turned to steel. The pain hit him as soon as the morphine burned out. This pain. This was Damian’s pain. “Damian,” he gasped jumping too quickly to his feet, but Bizarro met him to hold him there. 

“He’s at the manor with B,” Jason told him as Jon glared up at the man keeping him captive. “They are taking care of him. He’s going to be okay.” 

He listened to the words that Jason was saying. Damian was with Bruce- which meant that he was not with his mother somewhere in the world having god knows what done to him for hours. He was healing, so B must be taking care of him. He knew that Jon and Damian were bonded, so surely he wouldn’t… but that wasn’t good enough. 

He looked up at Bizarro hoping that he really was as resilient as his dad. “I’m sorry,” he told him. The man barely had time to blink before Jon looked down and blew both of their feet until they were frozen to the floor. He zapped Bizarro’s hands until he let up and then he ran at the wall, blowing open the side with his eyes and hurling himself into the air while Jason shouted after him.  

Jon felt too heavy to fly but he pushed himself anyway, barely managing to shed enough weight to break the momentum of the fall. He landed a little roughly on the roof of the building below and took a leap to the next and the next before he set his mind and threw himself from the last one and shot off like a bullet into the air. 

He broke the knocker on the door and looked guiltily at Alfred when he opened the door. He dropped it in the hall with a gasped, “Sorry Alfred!” as he ran by him. His rage and the pain welled up in him again once he reached the cave only to melt off into the floor when he saw his father standing next to Dick at the computer. He was in his suit, looking at his son in total relief when Jon shoved the door open and stood there shaking. His dad was there. “Pa,” he breathed in heavily. His dad was there, everything was going to be fine. 

His dad was in front of him, hugging him off the floor. “Hey son,” his father said warmly holding him tightly for a minute. He put him back down on the floor and took his face in his hands, drinking him in. “It’s gonna be okay,” he promised him softly. And then he followed with, “I’m sorry.” 

“What do you-?” He started. His dad gripped down on his arms, holding him still as Dick came up next to him, sinking a shot of glowing green liquid into his skin. He was out again.

\---

“Jon!” Damian rasped. His throat felt sore like he'd been screaming. He shifted but his arms and legs were tied down by medical cuffs. He lifted his arm and pulled, the metal of the bed creaked. He looked closely at the strap, considering how much force it would take to break.

“You break it, you buy it.” His hand dropped to the bed. He hadn't heard the man standing in the doorway. His head spun as he turned to look at the man. He looked familiar. Damian knew that he'd seen him before, but his head was still too foggy to place where. “That was a joke. You're supposed to laugh.” 

He blinked at the man. 

“Yeah, I didn't think so. I was told to tell you not to try to escape, you'll just hurt yourself again. You still have a few wounds that haven't quite healed yet.”

“Jon?” he asked, when the man paused. 

“He's fine. He's safe.” He let his head drop back to the mattress and sighed. “Who did this?” the man asked quietly almost as if he wasn't supposed to and didn’t want to get caught. 

“My-” His throat tightened. “My mother.” He closed his eyes tightly fighting against the emotion building in them. He turned his head away from the door, away from the man regarding him closely. He heard the man step forward before pausing. After a few seconds the man stepped back toward the door. “You are certain that Jon is safe?” he asked turning to look at the man.

“Yes.” He nodded before slipping out the door. 

He wasn't sure how long he laid there, drifting in and out of sleep. He'd taken stock of his injuries, as best he could. His ankle had healed, his side was still sensitive, as were the burns across his chest, but overall he felt better. He turned when he heard voices out in the larger area. He recognized one, it was the same man from before. 

“He's just a kid!”

“You know better than most to never underestimate a child,” a deeper voice answered. 

“His mother did that to him. She tortured her own son and all he seems to care about is if Jon is safe.” 

“He's an assassin.”

“He's your-” the man cut himself off. He could practically feel the tension in the air. “At least let Jon see him.” He sat up some and tried to look out through the door, but he couldn't see much outside of the room.

“Fine,” the other voice responded after a few seconds. 

-

He didn't remember falling asleep, but when he woke up the superman was standing in the room. His arms were crossed over his chest. Damian stared at the giant S. He glanced at his face, but dropped his eyes a few seconds later - he did not look happy. He'd been so worried about figuring out how to see Jon, about figuring out why Jon seemed to like him, that he'd never spared a second to think that Jon's parents would never approve. The way the man was looking at him now told him that if he wasn't bonded to his son he'd be finding out how it felt to be tossed into the sun. He was about to apologize when he heard the voice he'd been imagining for weeks.

“Damian?” Jon ran into the room. He had a second to brace before Jon was jumping onto the bed. He grunted when he leaned against the wound in his side. Jon shifted some, but still hugged him hard, his face buried in the crook of his neck. 

He closed his eyes. Jon was warm, and felt so good against him. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed him. “Are you okay?” Damian whispered. It was all he had cared about since he'd left, and he needed to know that Jon was safe. 

“Am I…?” Jon asked leaning back to look at his face. His hand twitched with the need to touch him, but they were stuck shackled to the railing of the bed. 

“I am sorry,” Damian breathed. He dropped his forehead to Jon's shoulder. “All I wanted was to come back to you. I was not careful. I should have known it was a trap.” He let out a sob and Jon's arms tightened. “I should have known,” he whispered against his shirt. He should have known that his mother would find out. He should have seen that she was letting him think he had hidden Jon from her. He had known at the beginning that he would make a mistake. He’d been a fool. “If I hadn't gotten caught then you- So much pain - because of me. My fault you hurt.” He whined. Jon's breath as he shushed him calmed him. “They saw the mark.” He took a shaky breath and whispered, “He touched it. I couldn't stop him. I tried.” He whispered it again, needing Jon to know that. Jon's hand wrapped about the back of his neck. “They knew. They knew and were going to kill me. He said my mother would bring me back. You would have died because of me. I do not want that life. Without you.” He strained against the belts, he wanted to pull Jon in. “I answered him… I told him. I am a betrayer.” He breathed against the wet fabric of Jon's shirt. “Please do not be angry with me,” he whispered. 

“I'm not,” Jon told him holding him tighter. “I'm not. I promise.” Jon held him and repeated those words until he’d stopped shaking.

“Jon,” the Superman called, his voice was soft as he spoke. “Let Alfred check on him.” Damian sat back and blinked while Jon wiped away the tears on his face. He watched the butler check on his injuries, his side was red and inflamed, but appeared to be closing. He couldn't look at the burns on his chest without feeling the heat lick at him. Jon gripped his hand. 

“You should get some rest. If you continue to heal at this rate you should be healed in the morning.” The butler touched Jon's shoulder as he walked back out of the room. 

“I'm staying,” Jon said sitting back on the edge of the bed. 

“Jon,” the Superman warned. 

“If you won't let him leave then I'm staying,” Jon didn't sound like he'd take no for an answer. He looked up at the man, but he just looked between the two of them before stepping out, jaw clenched.

“I wanted to go to you,” Jon said. “As soon as it started I tried, but they wouldn't let me.” 

“It is okay,” he said. He was glad Jon had not come. Had not seen him like that. Had not put himself in danger. Jon laid down with his head on his shoulder. 

“It's not, at all, but you're here,” Jon said. 

“Your father does not like me,” he whispered a few minutes later. 

“You  _ had _ just stabbed me the last time he saw you. But no, that was his ‘how long can I hug them before getting punched’ face. None of the Waynes, except Dick, are good with affection so I've seen it a few times.” Jon lifted his head to look him in the eyes. “He'll like you, cause I like you.” Jon laid his head back down and they were quiet.

-

He woke when he felt someone watching him. Jon had curled around him in his sleep, his arm wrapped carefully over his stomach. He looked up to see the man from before. He nudged Jon's head with his chin. Jon woke up, and snuggled deeper against him. The butler was right, he was fully healed, his side didn't even give a twinge of pain when Jon pulled him further against his side. 

“Jon,” he urged, his throat didn't feel as bad as it had the day before. Jon sat up suddenly when he seemed to notice the other person in the room. 

“Oh. Hey Dick.” Jon sounded flustered and looked between them. “I guess introductions? This is Damian. D, this is Dick Grayson. He's one of Bruce's-” 

“Nice to officially meet you,” Dick said cutting Jon off as a pink tint rose on the man's face. 

“You were at the Christmas Party,” Damian said. 

Dick's eyes darted to Jon. “The one that you suddenly got sick at?” Jon looked sheepish before nodding. Dick frowned, looked like he wanted to say something, but shook his head. “Steph and Tim are vouching for you,” Dick said pointing to him. “You're not going to run away as soon as I take these off, are you?” 

“I do not plan on leaving Jon,” he swore. Dick stepped forward with a key. He undid the first cuff around his wrist. “I have nowhere else to go,” he whispered after the second cuff was removed. He rubbed his wrists. 

“You are just breaking my heart, kiddo.” Dick undid the last cuff around his ankle and stepped back. “There are clothes in there. He looks about Jason's height. The box marked Freakazoid should have pants long enough. Your dad is out in the cave with B when you're ready...” Dick looked between them. “Take your time. They’re still trying to figure things out.”

Jon handed him a pair of cotton pants and a jacket that looked far too big. “This will not fit me,” Damian told him before pulling the gown off. Jon turned red and spun to face the closet that he'd gotten the clothes from. The pants fit, but he was not wearing the jacket. He dropped it over Jon's shoulder. “It is too big.” Jon pulled out a shirt and looked at it for a second before handing it to him. Jon's face was still red, but he didn't look away from his chest. 

“I have a scar on my shoulder from our first date.” Jon grinned when he shot him a look. “I don't know why I didn't think you'd have scars too.” He frowned as looked down at the marbled skin on his chest. He met Jon’s eyes as they traced the scars on his skin before pulling the shirt over his head. 

“This is your symbol?” he asked as he smoothed the red design down. 

“Sort of. It belonged to someone else first. I hope Tim won't mind.” 

“I can,” he started to pull the shirt back off. If it was going to be a problem he would rather not offend anyone else, he felt like he was on unsteady ground already. 

“No. I-” Jon looked down, blush covering his face. “I like it.” Damian looked down at the symbol and let go of the cloth. He didn’t want to think about what had just happened, what he had survived. He needed to move forward, lock it in the past and keep surviving. He stepped closer and Jon looked up, meeting his eyes. 

“You grew again,” he grumbled. Jon started to say something, but he touched the line of his jaw and leaned forward giving him a soft kiss. “I like it,” he said and Jon's face flushed red all at once. It was fascinating. 

Jon took his hand and they walked out into a large cavern. He was impressed by the amount of technology spread throughout it as they walked. 

“You're not going to tell me what my son can and cannot do. If Jon wants to see him, then I will let him,” the Superman, Jon's dad, snapped. He could hear the heat behind the words. He knew that they had walked into the middle of something. 

“Well fine. The boy is  _ my _ son and Jon can't see him.” 

Damian froze. It was the same voice he’d heard talking to Dick the night before. All of the eyes in the room landed on them all at once.

"Bruce,” Dick said sounding horrified. The man turned around, and Damian was looking at his own face. He knew in an instant that this was the man his mother had seen for years when she'd looked at him. The man who he'd been told his entire life he could never live up to. The man who he had thought died, because why else would he never try to see him. Why else would he leave him to this life of pain and death. He gripped Jon's hand and turned. Jon followed after him without him having to pull very hard. 

After a minute Jon guided him into a room covered in mats and staffs. He picked up one of the staffs and walked into the middle of the room, where a practice dummy stood. He stared at the dummy as his eyes watered. His arms trembled with how hard he was gripping the staff.

“Damian?” his eyes moved over to Jon who was still standing next to the door. He growled and slammed the staff against the dummy. The padding made a dull thwap. He hadn't felt this angry since Grandfather died. He beat on the dummy until the staff snapped, then kept hitting it until Jon grabbed his arms and pulled him away. He pushed him off. Jon had his hands out when he turned to him. Damian looked up at his face. 

“I thought my father was dead.” He looked down at the red welts covering his arms. “But he simply did not want me.” Jon pulled him in and he let Jon hold him this time. He wondered if their bond would heal this ache in his chest too.

“I don't think he knew,” Jon whispered. “He wouldn't have left you there.” He gripped Jon's back harder. It had been years since he'd wanted the life he'd been dealt, years since he'd thought he was happy. His Grandfather's death and his mother's descent into madness had shown him that he wanted more out of his life. But he had known that he couldn't have anything more. Until Jon. 

“How do you know that?” he asked. 

“Because I know him. He'd never leave anyone in need, let alone his own family.”

“He has a family. What would he want with me?” What would  _ Jon _ want with him? He was broken, betrayed, homeless. He pushed away from him and took a couple steps back. Jon reached for him, but dropped his hands when he stepped further away. 

“Damian. That's not what family is. It's-” he knew Jon was going to say something too nice and naive. 

“I am not a good person,” he snapped. “I am a killer. A liar. I lied to you. I know precisely how many people I have killed. I know their faces and how they died. I know you think- I know you want me to be a good person, to be like you, but I am not.” He looked straight into Jon's eyes. “I was going to kill you that night. I felt the pain of the knife on your neck and knew how easy it would be.” He paused and looked up into Jon's eyes. “I finally would have been free of the league.” He closed his eyes as Jon reacted. “Your father merely interrupted me.”

Jon flinched backwards as Damian’s word hit him in full force. He tried to harden himself like Bruce would have and trap the emotion behind his eyes- but he knew that he couldn’t do that. He didn’t have it in him to hide his hurt because he had never been taught to be ashamed of it. His voice was rough when he found his words. “But you knew,” he accused him. “You knew that we were bonded. If you killed me then you would have…” Damian’s gaze didn’t falter. He kept staring at him,  _ his _ mask easily falling into place. “Is that what you want?” Jon asked, unable to stop his voice from cracking at the thickness that was climbing up his throat. “Do you regret it?” he demanded. Damian didn’t say anything, he watched Jon as tears built up on his eyelashes but he refused to blink them off. “I don’t believe you,” he told him defiantly. 

Damian grimaced, his dead eyes filling with anger. “It does not matter what you believe. It is the truth.” 

“No, it isn’t,” Jon seethed slowly. 

“It is!” he snapped back. 

“No,” Jon growled again. “And it doesn’t matter to me what you have to say about it. Being raised to believe one thing doesn’t make you who you are,” he told him firmly, clamping down at the heat radiating off of him. He fisted at his jacket to keep his nails from digging into his skin. “Just because you killed those people doesn’t mean that you wanted to. If my dad told me to…” he swallowed not wanting to think about it, “Well, I could have done that stuff. I killed my mom’s cat on accident when I was ten.” Damian shot him a look, but he could see behind it to the the small part of him that wanted to believe what Jon was saying. “Three years ago, I lost control and half of a town caught fire. It was so easy and so fast. We are all capable. We can all be molded and used. Your mom was supposed to take care of you. But she used you and you hurt people because of it. But hurting those people, D- hurting those people hurt you too.” The tears dropped from his eyelashes and he wiped the sleeve of his jacket across his face. “And I am so sorry that I can’t save you from that. But  _ I _ don’t regret meeting you. And I don’t care what you say, I don’t think you could have killed me if you wanted to.” His hands were shaking, “But if I’m wrong and that’s really what you want, then you can kill me right here, I won’t stop you.” 

His mask was gone as he watched Jon, every word crushing into his resolve until there was only him. His eyes flicked to the door. “They won’t know.” Jon told him and his eyes drew back. “I won’t shout. It’ll be done by the time they get here.” He tried his best to sound like he wasn’t afraid, but he was terrified. His entire body shook as Damian stepped closer to him. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing and keeping his skin from turning to steel. He heard Damian stop in front of him. Jon felt the heat of him, his heart beat so steady and calm compared to the erratic jumble of his own. “Do it,” he told him softly, tears rolling down his cheek again. 

But Damian didn’t do it. He took Jon’s face in his hands and thumbed the tears off of his cheeks. Jon opened his eyes to look down at him, but then Damian kissed him. “I am sorry.” he whispered as he pulled away and kissed him again, softer than the first. “I am sorry.” he continued, over and over between the soft touches. 

Relief flooded through Jon as he let his arms wrap around him, pulling Damian as close to him as he could as the adrenaline from the past moment pumped it’s way through his body. It spiked as Damian’s hand moved up his jaw and caught on the back of his neck, holding Jon's face to his in a longer and deeper kiss than Jon had ever had. His body reacted before his brain did, spinning them around and walking Damian back up to the wall. He was panting when he pulled back from him, his arms on either side of Damian’s face as he pushed himself back. And maybe he was just caught up in the moment. Maybe it was the vulnerability that Damian was showing him. Maybe he had talked so much earlier that he couldn’t stop himself now, but he said it. “I love you.” Damian’s face contorted and he immediately knew that that was the wrong call. “I, I mean-”  But Damian dragged him back in. 

Heat ran up his body but he didn’t feel out of control, he opened his mouth and pressed his tongue over Damian’s teeth, loving the way that he shivered as Jon fell back against him. Damian’s hand was on the small of his back, his fingers pushing up his shirt so he could feel Jon's skin on his, sending electric shocks over the surface. Damian pulled back dizzily and Jon traced his nose down his jaw to let him catch his breath, the noise that escaped Damian was enough to shock him out of his practiced control and send his fingers through the stone of the wall. 

The cracking sound made them both jump as reality caught up to them. Jon stepped back from him as the door to the training room opened. Dick stood in the doorway eyeing the hole in the wall suspiciously as he paired it with the tangle of their hair and swollen lips. He cleared his throat as the two of them turned the red color of guilt. “I thought it would be best to give you some space, but if the two of you are… finished,” he started and Jon’s eyes went straight to the floor. “Alfred is done with dinner.” He smirked at the two of them. “But if you need a little time to work up an appetite…” he trailed off with a wink and closed the door again leaving them alone.

Jon peeked over at Damian who was touching his mouth like he needed to make sure that it was still there. He understood. It didn’t feel like that had actually happened to him either. “Are you hungry?” he asked finally when he was sure that his whole ‘I love you,’ thing wouldn’t come back up. Damian nodded and Jon offered him a hand. He took it but pulled him in, running his fingers through Jon’s hair until it sat more tidily on his head. Then he let him pull him out the door. 

-

Bruce wasn’t at dinner, but Jon hadn’t really expected him to be. He and his father had taken off shortly after his outburst in the cave, leaving Dick and Alfred to keep an eye on the boys. Stephanie and Tim had already left for the evening so it was the four of them at the small table in the kitchen. Damian didn’t talk much but that was okay, Dick filled in all of the silence with ease. He talked about Bruce. He never aimed it at Damian, but Jon knew that it was for his benefit. Jon would have been grateful if Dick hadn't also taken the time fill Damian in on the more embarrassing parts of his childhood. 

He was relieved when Alfred started clearing the table, telling them that it was late and that they should all think about settling in. Dick lead them out of the kitchen into the grand entryway. They followed him up the stairs and toward the guest rooms. “You can stay in here tonight,” he told Damian as he opened the door to a room at the end of the hall. “And I do mean  _ all _ night,” he warned him. “I’ll be listening.” He grinned and waited just outside the door so that Jon could have a minute alone with Damian. 

He waited until Dick was out of earshot before he asked. “Are you going to be okay?” 

Damian nodded but frown at him, brushing the back of his knuckles against Jon’s cheek. “I will be fine,” he assured him. “Goodnight.” 

He walked back down the hallway to his room as Dick ducked into one between them. He tried not to be annoyed but Jon knew that Dick's room was at the top of the stairs. He took his time getting ready for bed, staying in the shower too long and letting the warmth beat his exhaustion out of him. Even though had slept next to Damian for a few hours before, the events of that evening had left him exhausted and he felt heavy when he finally curled into bed. He had barely closed his eyes when he heard his door crack open. What would have been silent steps to anyone else led up to his bed before the covers pulled back and Damian slid in behind him. 

-

He was too warm when he woke up. Damian curled into his chest with his head tucked under Jon’s chin, their legs intertwined as he breathed out softly in sleep. Jon grinned groggily and dipped his nose into Damian’s hair. It was soft, he must have washed it, and smelled like peppermint and cucumbers. He could have laid there forever- and if not forever then at least for a few more hours letting Damian get whatever sleep that he could. But it hadn’t been the warmth that had woken him up. He had heard the door to the cave open in the drawing room. His dad was back. 

“Damian,” he whispered as softly as he could knowing that his father might be able to hear him if he turned his head in the right way. The boy groaned and held onto him tighter, making his heart throb. Jon heard his father chuckle with Alfred about something and start his way up the stairs, “D, you have to get up,” he told him giving him a shake. 

Damian peeled his eyes open. For the first time since Jon had known him, he looked like a normal, tired, beautiful teenaged boy. “Wha?” he rasped blinking up at him groggily.

Jon bit his lip and looked towards the door. His father had taken a turn down the hall. As much as he might want to support Jon, he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be excited about seeing him tangled in bed with his best friend’s newfound son. “My dad is here,” he whispered. 

They jumped out of the bed, rushing around to all of the places that they could think of. Out the window was too much and it would set off security. The curtains didn’t reach the floor. Jon had stored a few suitcases under the bed and there wasn't room for Damian anymore. His father knocked at the door, “Son, you awake?” he asked. 

Jon’s heart jumped into his throat. “Uh, yeah- one second Pa!” he called as Damian gave him a frantic look and Jon shoved him into the closet. 

He looked around to see if he had left any evidence and gave himself a second to take a breath before he opened to door to his dad and Bruce. He blinked in surprise, he hadn’t heard Bruce but he imagined that he usually intended it to be that way. They were dressed casually, looking like they had just showered. They must have just gotten back from wherever they had gone the night before. “Hey,” his dad offered a kind smile. “Can we talk to you for a minute?” 

Jon blinked, fighting the urge to look back at the closet. He didn’t like this, but he knew that it wasn’t really a question and they were mostly asking to be polite. “Okay…” he muttered and stepped out of the doorway to let them in. He had a small jolt of anxiety as Bruce leaned against the wall next to the closet, but he followed his dad over to the unmade bed and took a seat when he pat for him to join him. They were quiet for a minute, Bruce and his father exchanging looks that felt like a private conversation. “Am I in trouble?” he asked when they continued to not say anything. 

“No,” his father assured him as Bruce shifted uncomfortably. “Bruce and I had a long talk last night. And although we don’t agree with how you handled it, we… understand why you didn’t tell us about the soulbond.” His father looked at Bruce who was frowning at the floor and continued, “We also decided that we owe you an apology.” 

Jon blinked at his father, heat in his cheeks for no reason that he could identify. “But why?” he asked. 

Bruce cleared his throat. “We should never have made you feel afraid of your power.” He said gruffly. “It was wrong of us. And, we imagine that this must have…” he trailed off pursing his lips and looking at his father for help. 

“That it must have made you feel like there is something wrong with you.” Clark finished for him. Jon swallowed hard on the lump that was in his throat. It did. It did feel like there was something wrong, like he was something bad, incapable of finding enough control to ever use his powers for good. He nodded and his father let out a sharp breath, wrapping him in a hard hug that Jon used as a chance to hide his face. “I’m so sorry, son. We never meant for you to feel like that. Your mother and I just wanted you to have the chance at a normal life.” He pulled back and looked down at him, his face as serious as he had ever seen it. “But there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You are the best kid we could have asked for.” 

Jon swallowed again, harder, “Thanks Pa,” he grumbled out, his face reddening again as he thought, mortified, about Damian listening to all of this from the closet. Awesome.

Bruce, never great with tender moments, moved forward. “Since the suppressors are no longer working at all, we have decided that it is time for you to start learning how to control your powers.” Jon blinked at him, this was so surreal. “Whether we like it or not, the League of Assassins will not sit by and wait idly for us to return the boy-” Clark cleared his throat and Bruce sighed, glaring at him, “Which we have no intention of doing.” He amended, “But all of us need to be prepared. Since the training with me has not exactly been fruitful and the last time you were with your father was…” he trailed off, the three of them all remembering exactly how horrible it had been the last time he had gone on a mission with his dad. “We asked Jessica to help.” 

Jon looked at his father, brows drawn together. “She has a lot of experience overcoming fear and channeling her power through great concentration,” he explained. “I never had to focus that hard on my power. She knows what that is like.” 

“Her and Simon will be here in the morning.” Bruce told him. “Take today to rest, we have a lot to go over.” 

\---

“I have a name,” Damian mumbled. He heard the cough and shifted further into the closet. It was barely half full and appeared to only have the school uniforms he'd seen Jon in before. He listened to the footsteps walking away from the room. He could barely hear one set falling in step with the heavier footsteps of the superman, his father's. The fabric in his hand ripped as Jon opened the door looking out of breath. He dropped the fabric. 

“That was my favorite jacket,” Jon whined as he stepped out.

“Did they say training?” he asked, ignoring the complaint. 

-

He watched the trio at the center of the room. Everyone had given him a wide berth when he had come down with Jon. He didn't mind, he was used to standing apart. The members of the league knew who his mother was, it hadn't brought any allies. The people in the cave did not look at him with that calculating glare that the other members had always given him, waiting for him to make a mistake so that they could capitalize on it. These people watched him in curiosity.

So far Jon had only managed to burn the male lantern once. Though Damian was pretty sure that the goal was _ not _ to burn anyone. While the female lantern was wrapping the burn with a nervous Jon fluttering around them, he saw the bond marks on the lanterns’ wrists. He had trained with a body bound pair before. They had been difficult to fight. They knew where the other would be at all times, and instinctively moved to cover the other's weaknesses. The lantern pair had not been bonded as long. He could see it in their movements - they still thought about what they should do, where they should be. There had been a few moments when they'd reacted and let the bond move for them. He'd seen them make eye contact after they'd stopped and knew that they had felt it. 

“Are you bored yet?” he glanced over at the man who had walked up next to him a few minutes prior. Damian hadn't expected him to say anything to him. No one else had. “Tim says I've lost my touch, but I think I could take you.” He turned fully to look at the man. He was maybe an inch or two taller than him, but was bulkier than Damian had found any use for. There was something about him that had Damian curious. He stood up from the crouch he'd settled in. “Awesome. I'm Jason by the way.”

“Damian,” he replied. 

“Yeah. I know.” He stared at the back of the man as he followed him to another training room. He wondered exactly how many rooms there were. “Talia's kid,” he said as the door shut behind them. Damian frowned, there was something about the way that he said it that made him think Jason knew his mother. He felt his defenses raise. Jason smiled and tossed him a training staff. He caught it, startled at the abruptness. He twirled it around his hand, they were not that different than the ones the league used. 

Damian blocked when the man attacked without warning. He shifted his stance, slipping his leg behind Jason's before he pushed hard against the next hit. Jason went down to the mat. He stepped back and let him get back to his feet. Three more strikes and he was down again. 

“Okay. I was going easy on you,” Jason told him. His stance shifted and Damian could see the league in his training. 

“So was I,” he replied. He moved first, Jason cursed and blocked. They went back and forth, a few more trips to the mat for Jason, and more near misses than he liked. Damian hadn't had a single opponent give him this kind of challenge in a few years. He knocked Jason's arm down and jumped. He wrapped his legs around his head and dropped to the mat, Jason went flying over him. He climbed back to his feet as Jason laid sprawled across the mat. Someone clapped. He looked up to see Dick sitting against the wall. He'd been so focused on the fight he hadn't noticed him walk in. 

“Do that again,” Dick called. 

“Fuck you, Dick. That shit hurt,” Jason bit out. He had only pushed up to his elbows.

“Oi watch it. They can hear you now,” Stephanie called as she walked in. Jon had told her that she was pregnant, but he hadn’t seen it himself yet. She waddled slightly as Tim followed behind her with a rolling chair. He must have bumped her because she turned around and hissed at him to leave her alone. “Go back to the fighting that looked fun,” she said grabbing the chair from Tim and settling in it. 

Jason was back on his feet. He raised his staff in challenge. Damian blocked one blow and got another to his ribs, but knocked the end of his staff into Jason's jaw. They stepped back. Jason stretched his jaw and smirked. They met again in a flurry of strikes. He took another to his ribs, opposite side. Jason got a butt end to his sternum. The pattern of their strikes beat is way into his bones and he lost himself in the rhythm. Everything narrowed down to the next block, the next two strikes, the dodge. 

Then Jon walked in the room. 

He felt the exact moment that Jon crossed the threshold. His eyes flicked to the door. He’d never felt that before. His distraction only lasted a fraction of a heartbeat but it was enough for him to miss his chance to block Jason’s next strike. The staff collided with his head. He stumbled back before dropping to the mat in a daze. 

“Damian,” Jon gasped and moved to him.

“I am fine,” he said as the fuzziness faded. He sat up and stopped Jon's hand before he reached the side of his head. He knew he could feel the same dull ache, but he didn't want the comfort Jon was offering. He looked over Jon's shoulder to where Jason was talking to the others. 

“I told you I could take him,” Jason said, bragging. He pushed himself up and walked up to him, eyes on the ground. 

“What was that? 10-1?” Tim asked. Damian dropped to his knee and bowed his head. 

“Uh, Jason?” he heard Dick say cautiously. Jason turned. 

“Oh shit.” The whole room went quiet. Jason kneeled down in front of him, he kept his eyes down when he felt Jason's searching his face. “Hey,” his voice was too soft, it made him uneasy. Damian had never understood why some of his teachers would pretend they were kind before they doled out their punishments. “Stand up,” Jason whispered. He glanced up, but Jason was looking to the others. 

“I made a mistake,” he pointed out, confused. He knew that Jason had trained with the league. Jason turned back to him, his eyes burning with anger. Damian’s eyes dropped to the floor in front of him.

“We don't-” Jason started then stopped. “We're not going to punish you. Now stand up.” His voice was controlled anger. He lifted his head. Jason stood and offered him his hand. He stared at it for a second. This could be another test. He looked up and Jason was frowning. “You’re safe here. I promise,” Jason said so quietly he didn’t think anyone else heard and held his hand out again. He took it hesitantly. Jason helped him up and then handed him another staff. He took it, still wary of his actions. “Okay. Let's go again. I think I'm starting to learn your ninja ways.”

“I'm not a ninja,” he mumbled and glanced at Jon. They'd had a discussion at the pier over some fried dough that Jon had devoured. Jon’s confusion faded and a smile lifted his face after a second. 

“Potato, tomato,” Jason said nonsensically. “Come on.” He raised an eyebrow and Jason attacked first. They circled a little more cautious of each other. Jason kept trying to draw him out. He saw an opening and struck, but Jason was faster than he expected and was suddenly behind him, staff held across his throat. He reacted instinctively, grabbing the staff as he dropped and flipped Jason over him. He spun and pressed his knee into Jason's chest as he held the end of the staff to his throat. 

“Is this revenge for tossing your boyfriend around?” Jason croaked. Damian looked up to Jon then back to Jason. He pressed the staff down harder before standing. 

“No, I would have used my other hand if I had known,” he switched hands before he waved at Jason to continue. 

“Nope. I'm done. You out ninja’d me.” He smirked. 

“I am still not a ninja,” he told him but helped Jason to his feet. 

-

Jon was doing better by the end of the day. He looked tired, but still happy when he joined him at his spot against the wall while the lanterns talked to Jon's father. 

“You did well,” he offered. 

“I could have done better,” Jon grumbled and wiped at the sweat running down his neck. “I don't know if I'll ever get it. Like it's so easy for everyone. You didn't even look like you were trying earlier and I hardly stand a chance against Jason.” 

“I have been practicing my entire life,” he reminded him. “It was not easy. Any of them would tell you that. You are doing well, but you are thinking too much. You worry too much.” He pushed at the furrow between Jon’s brows. “Jason told me you flipped the Batman?”

Jon smiled and leaned his head against the wall. 

-

Dick opened the door to Jon's room quickly and looked in. They both looked at him. Jon was on his stomach doing one of his assignments. Damian was reading against the headboard. The man almost looked disappointed when he didn’t catch them up to something. “Don't stay up too late, and at least pretend that you slept in your bed.” Damian turned the page instead of acknowledging him. 

“Hey Damian?” Jon asked a few minutes after he turned the light off.

“Yes?” he said back just as quietly. 

“Why did you do that today? Kneel in front of Jason?” 

“I made a mistake and was defeated. I was awaiting my punishment as I was taught,” he said and turned his head to look over to Jon. 

“Did you do that every time you practiced?” Jon asked. 

“If I made a mistake, yes. I tried not to make mistakes.” Jon rolled over and looked at him. He looked like he wanted to say something, but shifted so his head was on Damian's shoulder and closed his eyes instead. He turned his face into the curls of his hair and closed his eyes as Jon warmed him.

-

The lanterns weren't there the next day. Jon was training with the others instead. Damian watched him for a little while before walking around the large cavern. He stayed away from the computers and the locked rooms. He was surprised they were allowing him free roam of the manor and cave. He suspected that it was a test. If it wasn’t he didn't want them to change their mind. He ran his hand along one of the motorcycles on a lift. It looked like it was getting worked on. Jon laughed. He turned to see him shoving Dick away from him. His eyes drifted and he saw Stephanie with her feet propped on a table and a book balanced on her stomach. Jon had told him that he should try talking to the others. He hadn’t had a change to try. At least that was what he was telling himself. Jon had talked the most about Stephanie and Tim. They had helped him. They’d kept their secret even when it would have been smarter not to. He felt eyes follow him as he walked over to her.

“Congratulations,” he said. Stephanie startled and dropped her book. He caught it before it could hit the ground and handed it back to her. 

“Thanks.” She smiled as she took the book back, but set it on the table next to her. “I am going to get you a bell.” 

“My nurse gave me a bell when I was a child. I used to make a game of sneaking up on her while wearing it.” He smiled softly at the memory as he touched her stomach. He looked over to her, then realized he shouldn't have touched her. He pulled his hand away already forming an apology, but she caught his hand. He let her place his hand further down the side of her stomach. He gasped as a hard kick pressed against his palm. “They will be strong like their mother,” he said meeting Stephanie's eyes. 

“I hope so,” she agreed. He felt the tiny movements for a few minutes more before letting his hand fall away. “How are you doing?” Stephanie asked before he could step away. 

“I am fine,” he said. She didn't look like she believed him. 

“Tim said you were down here training for most of the night.” He hadn't realized they had seen him, but he should have known. He hadn't been able to sleep. He’d grown tired of staring at the ceiling as Jon slept next to him. Jon had rolled over and hugged his pillow when Damian had finally given up on sleep and headed down to the cave. 

“My mother will be coming,” he said. He looked over to Jon who was arm wrestling all three of the other guys, he was winning and laughing at them as they argued with each other. “I will not let her take him from me.” 

Stephanie shifted and let her feet fall to the ground. She waved at him to help her up. Once on her feet, she walked over to a computer and pressed on a blinking light. An alert popped up. 

“Arkham again?” Tim asked appearing at her side even though he'd been joking with his brothers moments before. 

“They have been having power outages,” the Batman said as he walked through the room, the Superman followed after him. He hadn’t even known they were in the cave.

“We're helping,” Superman said as he stopped next to Jon. There was a tense moment where everyone watched the batman's reaction, but finally he nodded. Everyone started moving. Damian watched them from the console as they changed and started heading to different cars and motorcycles. Jon hovered over to him. He looked at the shield on his chest before Jon spoke. 

“Dad said you can't go. I can stay,” Jon offered, but he knew that he wanted to help, wanted to fight at his father's side. 

“Go, be safe?” Jon floated a little higher and kissed his cheek before dropping and jogging over to his father. 

“Alfred can run it today,” Tim said, eyes flicking to him for a second before dropping back to Stephanie. 

“I'll be fine,” she said and kissed her hand before slapping him lightly on the cheek. 

“What if-” Tim cut off and rubbed his head with a small nose of pain. 

“Then it's good that I have my own personal bodyguard handy to keep me safe. Now go.” Stephanie scooted closer to the computer. She pat the air next to her. He stepped up and looked at the different feeds coming on the screen. He listened to her direct the group. They all reported in as they reached their destinations. 

“Nightwing, Robin says watch your six,” Stephanie said without looking up from where she was typing. 

“That man has a gun,” he said, pointing to a screen. 

“B, watch the corner. There is a gun in play.” He watched as the Batman flowed around the corner, projectiles already hitting their target before he'd even fully stepped out. He watched them fight and protect each other. Stephanie touched his hand. He looked down, then back at the screens. Jon was guiding another man into the back of a transport. Jon's father landed beside him and pat his back. His heart ached for some reason. 

“Oh, kid,” he looked over to Stephanie in confusion. Her hand slid off his and she looked up at him with sorrow in her eyes. He focused on the action before him.

Slowly they started trickling back in as the last of the escapees were rounded up. Jason slid to a stop on the platform first and went straight for the showers. Dick followed a few minutes after. He lingered at the screen until the last three were heading back before he followed Jason's example.

“I'll talk to Clark, he’ll talk to him. I think that’s our best bet,” Tim said apropos nothing as he walked up to them as Dick left. He pressed a kiss to Stephanie's head and slid her away from the computer so he could pull up another chair. She kicked her feet up and put them in Tim's lap. 

The last three returned together. Jon shot him a huge smile. He smiled briefly back but looked back over to Tim and Stephanie. Tim was typing with one hand and rubbing her ankles with the other. She was smiling so openly at Tim. Was that how- Jon pulled him away talking nonstop until he'd gotten changed and they were back up in the manor sitting down at a giant table. 

\---

Damian was quiet for the rest of the weekend. Not that he ever really wasn't quiet- but this was different. Jon could tell that he was bothered by something and even though he wouldn't come out and tell him, Jon was pretty sure that he knew what it was about.

He stood outside of the study holding his textbook tight to his chest, his completed assignment sticking out of the top of it. He was exhausted, having spent the last three days either training or studying, and the thought of going to school tomorrow seemed absolutely impossible. But he knew he had to do it, like he had to do this. 

He pushed the door opened enough to stick his head through. Bruce was sitting at his desk, papers spread before him. He was leaning over them, palm holding up his forehead as he made notes in the margins and crossed through lines. It had always been amazing to Jon how Bruce and his father managed to balance so much on their plate. To get up in the morning and go to work, spending the evenings writing stories and going over contracts knowing that in a few hours they would dawn their capes and head into the thick of things. 

Jon knocked lightly and Bruce looked up at him, blinking surprised when he saw Jon at the door. “Hey,” he grumbled not unkindly. His voice sounded rough, like he had just woken up as he pushed the paper in front of him to the side. “Everything okay?”

Jon nodded and dropped his gaze to the ground. He hadn't really talked to Bruce since, well, everything. The shame from his hidden truths still bit at the back of his throat. He held up his notebook. “I've been having trouble with this assignment,” he told him thickly. “Could you check it for me?” 

Bruce nodded and waved him in, stacking his papers carefully to make room for Jon’s. He took the textbook from Jon. He watched as Bruce opened it up, reading through the assignment quickly before addressing his untidy scrawl on the torn out notebook papers. Jon bit his lip, worried that he would be mad. “Hey B?” he asked after a minute, barely getting enough air to say it. 

“Yes, Jon?” 

He swallowed. “You… are you okay?” Bruce’s eyes stopped moving over his work and he looked up at Jon, his brows pulled together. Jon forced himself not to back track. “I know you are still upset with me, and I understand. I shouldn't have lied to you or put you in the position where you had to lie to my dad. But, like, it's just that I spent all of this time worrying about what you would say or think. I didn't stop to worry about you.” 

Bruce was frowning now. “I know you didn't know,” Jon offered and Bruce's face twisted in a way that hurt Jon. “I told Damian that you would have come for him.”

He wasn't looking at Jon when he spoke, his eyes staring down at his homework but they weren't taking anything in. “How do you know that?” he asked softly. 

Jon shrugged. “Because you always come for me. And for Tim. And for Jay. And for Dick.” 

He watched Bruce close his eyes and suck in a deep steadying breath. But he looked less sad when he looked back at Jon, and a little suspicious. “Your homework is perfect,” he accused. 

Jon’s eyes shot upwards in innocence and he slipped the book and his notes out from in front of him. “Thanks.” He told him trying not to smile as he headed for the door. “G’night!” 

-

Damian sat on the edge of his bed watching Jon get ready for school, pulling on his uniform as quickly as he could. He tried not to think about how intently his soulmate was watching him. But there wasn't anything suggestive about his look. He looked angry. And if Jon didn't know any better he would say that Damian looked a little scared. His arms were crossed as he watched Jon knot his tie with careful hands and pull it tight up to his collar before he finally couldn't take it anymore. “You shouldn't go,” Damian said stiffly, not looking Jon in the eye when his darted up. 

“I have to go,” Jon told him simply, drawing his brows together. “If I don't go to school I’ll fall behind.” 

“I can teach you anything that they can,” Damian snapped still staring at the wall. “American school is useless. Your education will not be hindered.” 

Jon clamped down on the smile that was trying to pull up the corners of his mouth as Damian continued to mutter about the broken system and all of the schooling that he had completed. He knew that he couldn't say that he was worried about him. Jon didn't need him to. “I’ll only be gone for a few hours,” he promised cutting him off. Damian frown deeper so he kept going. “There will be teachers and students all around me. And I'm practically bulletproof.” He grinned at him, cupping his face in his hands to make him look at him. 

Damian closed his eyes at his touch, automatically reacting to him even though he didn't want to. “My mother could bring the full force of the league down on us at any moment,” he muttered, placing his hand over one of Jon’s and letting it slid down to his wrist. “And it won't matter of you are bulletproof. If she wants you dead, you will be.”

He swallowed and he wasn't smiling anymore. “But if she kills me. You die too.”

Damian averted his eyes again. “That will not matter,” he told him. The way that he brushed it to the side as another fact hurting Jon the same way that Bruce had done last night. Damian gripped harder at his wrist. “Do not go,” he pleaded.

There was a knock on the door that pulled them out of the bubble they were in. “Master Jon, we must leave if we are to make it on time,” Alfred called through the door. 

Jon leaned in and kissed Damian quickly on the cheek. “I'll be fine,” he promised and grabbed the comm off of his dresser. “If not I'll call you,” he told him and turned out if the room before he could stop him. 

-

Class moved by remarkably slow and Jon felt like he might die of old age before fourth period ended to let him stretch his legs. His entire body was sore from the beating that Dick had given him yesterday and even that wasn't as bad as Jason. He frown remembering how easily Damian had taken him down but he didn't have time to think about it when the office aid came in with a pink slip, leaving it for his teacher. 

She read it over quickly and looked straight at him with a frown. “Jon Kent.” He blinked at her. “You're needed in the front office. You should take your things.”

He packed his bag wondering what was happening as he followed the aid back to the office. He handed his pink slip to the secretary and she looked through a small memo pad. “Yes, Mr. Kent.” She nodded when she found his name in her notes. “It's says here that your father is on his way to pick you up.” 

His father had gone back to Smallville the night before. “Did he say why?” he asked starting to worry. 

“I'm afraid not,” she said kindly, “You can wait in the courtyard if you'd like. Such a nice day outside.”

He nodded and let his feet carry him out of the building, his mind too busy to think about where he was going. Why would his dad pull him out of school? He hadn't said anything when he left. It must be an emergency. Maybe his mom-

He blinked as a car pulled up in front of the walk way. Windows tinted so dark that he couldn't see the figures of the person on the other side. That was when it clicked. He didn't even have time to think about how he shouldn't have gone outside when the back window rolled down and a gun was aimed right at him. 

Jon’s first instinct was to move. But if he moved then the bullet would go straight into the school and he would not be responsible for someone else getting hurt. The gun when off and he tensed, letting powers roll over his skin in time to deflect it. The impact still felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He keeled over coughing and forced himself to suck in a hard breath and get up. He needed to get out of there before someone came out to look- but when he dug his feet into the ground to jump he didn't have the air to get the wind under him. The gunman took aim again. Jon ran. He ran out of the courtyard as fast as he could down the street, shot echoing behind him and embedding a bullet into the back of his shoulder. “Shoot!” he growled, biting his lip as he ducked into the alley cursing himself for losing his concentration. 

He could hear the car following him and stared up at the fire escape. He needed to get enough air to grab onto the ladder. He focused as hard as he could, feeling his body lighten but it wasn't enough and the car was getting closer. “Would you just work for once?” he demanded, frustration running through him as he saw the car stop at the mouth of the alley and the door open. He grit his teeth and leapt, barely making it far enough to grab the edge of the ladder and scrabble upwards, hearing the thugs curse behind him and shoot after him again. He felt a graze run up the side of his calf, but managed to protect the rest of himself as he made his way higher and higher until he was on the roof. He ran hard for the edge hoping to god that he got himself together enough to make it to the next. And the next. And the next until he was a few blocks away, holding his bleeding arm and wondering what the hell had happened. 

He dropped his backpack and groaned as he sat down, his shoulder starting to throb now that the adrenaline was wearing off. He fumbled through his bag until he found the comm and winced when he shoved it in his ear and heard Damian yelling at him from the other side. “-I swear I will end whoever-" he was growling. 

“D,” he cut him off panting. 

“Where are you?” Damian demanded. 

“I was at school and they just-" 

“Where. Are. You?” he grit out and Jon swallowed hard. 

“I'm five blocks from the Academy,” he told him looking around. He still wasn't that familiar with the lay out of Gotham. “On the roof across from the library.” The comm went quiet and Jon knew that he would be in a whole lot of trouble as soon as Damian got there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _If you guys haven't picked up Adventures of the Supersons yet, you seriously need to reevaluate your priorities. Issue two came out this morning and there is still time!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Posting early because sleep is important and we have spent all day editing. I have to go die now._

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Tim was a head shorter than him. He didn't make up for his lack of height with any extra bulk, but he didn't need to. Damian remembered being younger and using his smaller size to his advantage. He missed it sometimes. It had taken longer than he liked to get used to his height when he finally hit his growth spurt. They circled each other, Dick and Stephanie had booed them a few times for being boring, but every time he saw an opening it was closed before he could use it. He could still taste blood from the last time he'd tried to draw Tim into an attack. He ran his tongue along the cut on his lip and stepped closer. He left himself open again and managed to block this time. Their staffs collided and he knew that he was going to lose this one too. It took a few more strikes, but his staff fell and the end of Tim's staff was touching his temple. His eyes went down and he had started to kneel when Tim stepped back. He paused and straightened back up.

“Are you letting me win?” Tim asked with a grin.

“No,” he snapped. “I would-” he gasped in a breath. His lungs aching for a moment. He held his stomach as the touch of pain faded. He looked to the stairs. He'd left the comm upstairs when Stephanie had dragged him down to help her. Damian was halfway up the stairs when an all too familiar pain radiated out of his shoulder. He stumbled, tripping on a step and caught himself. 

“Damian,” Tim called and he knew that he'd been calling his name since he first stopped. 

“Jon has been shot,” he said and threw himself back up the stairs. He raced up the second flight of stairs and into Jon's room. The tiny device was sitting on the dresser where he'd left it. He’d been so flustered by Stephanie bombarding him with questions that it had slipped his mind.

“That's one of ours. What did you do to it?” Tim asked when he caught up. 

“Jon,” he said as calmly as he could manage as another streak of heat ran up his calf. The angle was strange, Jon was going high. He hoped he was flying. “Jon,” Damian repeated. 

“Maybe you broke it.”

“I did not break it. I removed the tracking device and boosted the signal. It has worked from the other side of the world. It works in this city.” He shot Tim a look. The man looked impressed and didn't say any more. 

“Jon, answer me.” 

Tim telegraphed touching his elbow before pulling him back down the stairs. He followed, calling for Jon every few seconds. He didn't know what he was saying by the time he got back to the cave, his heart was hammering at the silence. There wasn't any pain, but that made it worse. He would hunt each and every member until he found Jon if they had taken him. His voice lowered as a plan started to solidify on where he would go first, what he would need, how he'd infiltrate them, and how he'd get Jon out. 

“D,” came through finally, Jon's voice barely audible through his breaths. He loosened his grip on the comm. 

“Where are you?” He asked. Tim had a map ready on the screen. 

“I was at school and they just-" The map zoomed in and Tim looked at him. 

“Where. Are. You?” He needed to know. He needed to be there. He didn't like this feeling. He hadn't the first time he’d felt Jon’s pain and that had only been sparring. Jon was injured, being hunted, and he was alone. Damian needed to be there. He needed to protect him.

“I'm five blocks from the academy,” he finally said. The map zoomed in again, but Jon continued, “on the roof across from the library.” 

“Send the coordinates to the car. I'll get him,” Damian spun at the Batman's voice. He had seen him in the cave when Stephanie first brought him down but hadn't realized he was still there. He had a suspicion that the man was avoiding him.

“I'm going,” he told him. The man looked at him, for the first time, and he stared back. 

“Fine.” 

Stephanie tossed him a jacket. She gave him a thumbs up that he wasn't sure the meaning of. He pulled on the jacket and followed the Batman to the car. He slid in and they were gone. His thoughts were torn. He tried to focus on Jon, but they kept drifting to the man next to him, his father, the one that had not spoken to him in the week that he'd been living in his house. He had questions. He needed answers, but he didn't know how to ask them. He wasn't sure if he was ready for the answers. His ankle twinged and he gripped the comm. 

“Jon?” he asked. 

“Sorry. I heard you guys. Didn't slow down enough.” They pulled into an alley and Jon was squatting next to a dumpster. Damian was out of the car eyes taking everything in before he ran the last few feet between them. 

“I told you not to go to school,” he said and helped Jon back to the car. 

“I was fine…” Jon mumbled from the backseat. He turned to looked at him, his shoulder had stopped bleeding. “They said my Pa was there to pick me up.” 

“Your father is in Smallville,” the Batman said. 

“I know that. I thought there was an emergency.” Jon sounded guilty, like it was his fault. Damian frowned as he stared out the front window. 

They pulled into the cave and Stephanie was the only one still there. He glanced around. “They went after the league. Jay is joining them,” Stephanie said. He felt the anger flowing from the man behind him. Damian tugged Jon toward the med bay that he'd woken up in. He looked at Jon's shoulder, still violently red but closed. He checked his calf and rotated his ankle. All of the injuries were healing. He didn't think he'd ever healed that fast before, but he'd never been near Jon before. 

Once he was sure that Jon was okay, he stopped and looked up at him. Jon looked scared as he looked back at him. Damian pulled Jon to him. Jon resisted for a fraction of a second before his arms wrapped around him tightly. “Stay with me.” Jon nodded against his neck. “I cannot lose you,” he whispered against Jon's hair. He felt someone walk in the room and gripped Jon tighter.

“Clark will be here in a moment. I'm going to join the others,” his father said primly before stepping back out. He loosened his hold after a few moments. 

“Maybe they’ll catch them?” Jon said with an attempt at a smile.

“I doubt that they will.” He touched the bullet wound again. “How did this happen?” 

“I was too focused on running.” Jon pulled his hand away. “At least it wasn’t a Kryptonite bullet,” Jon added. He felt his blood run cold at the reminder that this could have ended so much worse than it did. 

“Jon,” the Superman, Clark, called. A second later, he was in the room and touching Jon in all the same places Damian had checked. “Are you okay? Are you both okay?” Jon nodded and mumbled something, but Damian froze. 

“Damian?” Jon questioned and he had two sets of super eyes on him. 

“Yes, I am fine,” he replied. He had been surprised by Stephanie asking him the same question the other day, but had chalked it up to curiosity. Clark's voice had held the same concern his son’s always did when he asked if he was okay. Before Jon he'd never had anyone care how he was and had been attributing the boy's concern as a side effect of the bond. Maybe he was wrong. 

-

“What do you think of Tallulah?” Stephanie asked nudging him with her foot. He was watching Jon and the others as they talked. They were talking about the league. The others had chased the last of the assassins out of the city the night before. He wasn't allowed over there, he knew they still did not fully trust him. He did not blame them. 

“I do not?” he said. Stephanie was studying her phone. She glanced up at him and rolled her eyes.

“As a name.” She tapped her stomach briefly.

He turned to look at her before asking, “What does it mean?” 

“I don't know. I just like the sound of it,” she looked at him and sighed. She must not have liked what she saw. “Tim's being boring.” He listened to her list a few names that she found ‘boring’. His eyes tracked Jon and the emotions flitting across his face as he listened to Clark and the others talk. He wondered how Jon could be so free with his feelings.

“What would you name your daughter?” he blinked and turned to look at the woman. She was smiling up at him. 

“I have never thought of it,” he mumbled. 

“I don't believe you,” Stephanie said with a grin. She didn't look like she was going to let him escape without giving her an answer. 

“Layla,” he murmured. 

“Was it someone you knew?” Stephanie asked. 

“No. It was from a poem I read as a child.” He had not thought about it in years. He had read the poems for weeks until he had parts memorized. His grandfather had been amused by his preoccupation with the love story and had compared his mother to Majnun. She had not been happy with the comparison and had taken away the poems. He looked at Jon again. “May I ask you a question?” Stephanie nodded and set her phone on her stomach. “How did you know that you loved Tim?” 

Her eyes went to the man in question. He saw Tim smile and glance their way. She smiled sweetly at the man before answering, “I know every part of his mind, it was impossible for me to not love him.” 

“How did you know it was not the bond forcing you to feel that way?” Stephanie laughed lightly. His shoulders raised in defense.

“People have been calling bonds romantic for centuries. But imagine meeting a teenage boy and immediately knowing every thought he had about you... We fought more than we talked. Eventually we got over it, but the bond helped us stay together long enough to realize that we actually liked each other. You met Jessica and Simon, right? They are bonded but they don’t love each other.”

“The male lantern does love her though,” Damian said crossing his arms. 

“I told Tim,” she looked smug for a moment. Then her attention turned back to him. “Do you think you are being forced to love Jon?” she asked. 

He shook his head. “He told me that he loved me. I do not understand why he would say that.” 

“Because Jon cares about you. Why do you think that he wouldn't love you on his own?” 

“I do not know,” Damian looked down at his hands. “He is a hero. I have done terrible things.” 

She touched his hand. “Love is not about loving someone because they are perfect, but loving their flaws. Have you loved anyone?” 

“I loved my mother,” he said softly. He blinked and he had an armful of pregnant woman. He didn’t know how she had moved so fast. He held her up as she hugged him, then she just kind of stopped hugging him.  

“Uh, can you help me stand back up?” She asked. He chuckled and helped her back up. She rubbed his hair when she was back on her feet. “Trust what you feel. The bond might give you a nudge, but it can't create anything that isn't there.” He looked over to Jon.

-

Damian watched Jon as he slept. He looked like the normal teenager he pretended to be. There were moments when he could believe the lie. After dinner Jon had joked around with Dick and pushed him, Dick had barely even moved. But just hours before that he'd watched Jon effortlessly toss a weight back and forth with Clark. He traced the scar he'd left on Jon's shoulder. He'd been thinking about that night, and Jon's trust in him the other day. He knew he didn’t deserve it, but he wasn’t strong enough to resist it. He placed a kiss on the light skin and slipped out of the bed. Jon rolled over reaching for him, but didn't wake up. 

He took his time walking through the manor. He looked at the paintings on the wall. These people were his ancestors. He paused at one that he’d found his father standing before that morning. Jon told him that they were his father’s parents. They died when he was young. He looked at the portrait of his grandparents for a few minutes. His father looked like the man in the portrait, except his eyes. His father’s eyes were his mother’s the way that Damian’s were his mother’s. She was smiling and holding her husband’s arm. He leaned forward and touched a smudge of paint on her skin. The red hue on her wrist was barely visible. He looked up at their faces holding the smiles and love that was missing from all the other portraits on the wall. He let his hand drop from her wrist and turned toward the cave. 

He didn’t know how many entrances there were to the cave, Jon only ever used one. So it was the one he’d taken to using, even though he’d seen the others come and go from spots throughout the house. He stepped off the last stone stair carved into the foundation of the house and onto the metal grating that ran high up in the cave. The lights were on below. He stepped carefully as he continued. He hadn’t thought anyone else would be up this late. 

“Hey,” he stopped and listened. “No, hey,” the same voice repeated. He was pretty sure that it was Dick, but he sounded different. Damian walked over to the end of the platform overlooking the cave. “Look at me,” Dick insisted. He watched his father drag his head up from his slump in the chair. Dick was on his knees in front of him. “This isn't your fault.”

His father shook his head and looked back down, bringing his hands up behind his head. He stepped back when Dick's fingers covered his father's and he kissed the top of his head. Damian wasn't meant to see this. He didn’t think anyone was.

“He's my son,” the man said, the surety that ran like a thread through his words fraying. Damian paused and stepped closer to the edge to look down on them. “And I-” 

Dick shook his head. “You did nothing-” 

“Exactly!” his father interrupted. “I did nothing. He's spent his entire life with them. I know Jason told you how it was there. I remember.”

“And none of this is your fault. Talia-” Damian didn't think he'd ever heard his mother's name said with such disgust before. “-did this. She used you, and hid him from you.” 

“He thinks I knew and I left him there. Jon practically asked me if I had a few days ago.” Dick pulled his father’s face up. He could see the torment painted across his face. Damian had seen nothing more than the barest hint of emotion on his face before. He shouldn’t be watching them. He shouldn’t be seeing this. This emotion, this doubt, was only meant for one to see. The one person that he trusted the most, the person he trusted to protect his heart. He knew that he should leave, but he couldn’t look away. 

“Talk to him,” Dick said. “Tell him you wish you had known. Tell him you would have kept him safe.” 

“Why would he believe me?” His father looked at Dick like he held all the answers.

“Because he wants to believe you. You're his father. Be the man you are wishing you had gotten the chance to be.” Dick kissed the furrow between his brows. “So, talk to him tomorrow or Clark is going to be the one sitting here trying to convince you. I know you'll hate that.” Dick smiled, eyes still sad, and smacked a kiss on his cheek as he stood. “Now come to bed. I'm tired of sleeping alone especially since those boys aren't even pretending anymore.”

Damian stepped back so they wouldn't see him as they walked up a different stairwell talking about him and Jon as they went. He followed their journey until he could no longer hear their voices echoing in the cave. He considered going down to the training room, but decided against it. When he got back to Jon’s room he curled around him. Jon hummed in his sleep and pulled his arms around him.

-

There were things that he'd always found himself doing, after his Grandfather’s death and the change that followed. Watching people had been one of the first things he had made a decision to start doing. Sometimes he wondered if he could have stopped it. If he could have saved his Grandfather if he had been paying attention. So he started watching people. He saw how they talked and interacted. 

He watched the family. 

There were things that he'd already seen. Jason's battles with his own mind. The quiet conversations he had with Tim that always ended in the former curled on the couch in the library with a book and a cup of Pennyworth’s tea. 

Stephanie and Tim were open and easy with their affection. They used their bond to communicate more than they did words, and no one else seemed to mind. In the cave, Stephanie was balanced precariously on a chair as she reached for something in a cabinet. She laughed suddenly and turned to look across the cave. “Timothy,” she admonished with a smile. That night as Jon talked him through his latest trouble with his homework he saw them watching a movie, curled together on a couch. Tim was asleep as Stephanie pet his hair. He took Jon's hand as they walked up the stairs to his room. Jon barely paused in his complaint about covalent bonds. 

Damian watched his father the most. After that night he wanted to see what else he had missed. Dick watched his father as much as he did. They talked briefly in the cave, but when they were in the manor Dick was a near shadow to the man. He glanced in his father’s office while looking for Jon and saw Dick perched on the arm of his chair. He didn't slow enough to hear what he was talking about. He watched how his father interacted with the other boys, his chosen sons. Damian caught him looking at them with pride as Tim and Jason argued after getting back from patrol. Damian slipped silently from the cave, rubbing his chest. 

-

“How long have you and my-” Damian hesitated. He wasn't sure if he had actually called the man his father out loud. “my father been involved?” Dick dropped the cup he was holding. It crashed to the floor. They both stared at the liquid spreading out at Dick’s feet.  

“I don't- why would you- What?” Dick asked his eyes darting around. “Your father,” Dick winced. Damian watched him absolutely floundering. Dick turned to look behind him. “Who told you?” Dick finally asked after letting out a deep breath.

“No one told me. I have seen the way you look at each other. Should I not have said anything?” He thought back to the man on the pier and his reaction to him and Jon. 

Dick looked torn. “No. It's… Okay. We've been, what did you call it, involved for a few years. Maybe five or six.” Dick stepped out of the tea. He followed Dick to a linen closet and watched as he pulled out a towel and went back to clean up the mess. “Did you, uh, want to know anything else?” Dick asked the puddle, obviously avoiding his eyes. 

“What is he like?” Dick seemed surprised by the question. Damian was surprised himself. The only question he'd bothered to ask had already been answered the night before. He didn’t see the need to dwell on it. He wanted to know more about the man, more than the stories Jon had told him. 

“I'm not sure what to say. He's brilliant. I love to watch him when he's working on a new project. It's beautiful.” Dick made a face when he looked at Damian, like he had not meant to describe it that way. “He's reserved. Most people think it's because of his parents death, but I think it's just how Bruce is. He holds things in close. He is sparse with words most of the time, and even more so when those words involve emotions. It makes people think, and I have to admit that I used to question it myself, that he doesn't have feelings. But he does.” Dick walked down the hall with the dirty towel. “He cares so much.” Dick looked over to him, right in his eyes. “And I know that it's going to sound like I'm making it up, but family is everything to him. I think that's why he's been so distant. He feels like he failed you.” Dick tossed the towel in a hamper. He didn’t respond at first. Dick headed back down to the kitchen with his cracked cup. He stopped at the edge of the stairs, a question popping in his head.

“Do you love him?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Dick breathed with a shy smile. “I do.” 

-

Jon was laying on the floor with his legs propped up on his bed as he read one of his books. He glanced over when Damian walked in the room and set the book on his chest. 

“I am afraid,” Damian blurted out. Jon sat up, feet hitting the ground with thuds as he stared up at him. “I know what is coming. I know what awaits me, and I am scared.” Jon climbed to his feet and walked closer slowly. “There is this thing in my chest,” he fisted his shirt in his hand as it ached. “And I do not know what it is, but I know it's there because of you.” Jon touched his cheek, thumb catching a tear. He didn't know if it was love, but he thought maybe it could be. “I want this life. I have never wanted anything so much.” Jon pulled him in, squeezing him tight. He reveled in the feeling of Jon wanting him too. “Whatever happens, do not leave me. I will not let her take you from me.”

“Okay,” Jon whispered into his hair, holding Damian to him. He was glad in that moment that they had not gotten a mind bond. He didn't want Damian to hear what he was thinking. Jon was scared too. But he wasn't scared for himself. He was the son of Superman, in an instant he could be made of steel, shoot lasers out of his eyes, and fly away. Damian was just a person. A completely lethal and well trained person, but at the end of the day, he was flesh and blood. A human man that Jon had become completely enamored with. He still remembered the last time Damian had taken on the league like the wounds had happened yesterday. 

Damian held him hard, his nose tucked into Jon's neck as he pulled himself together. He knew this was hard for him, to crack his shell and let Jon see him how he truly was. Vulnerable. Human. Hurting. Scared. His. “I love you,” he told him simply. “I'm not going anywhere.” 

-

His dad stopped in more often after the attack at his school. He’d made an excuse for Jon missing class, something about his grandmother not doing so well. They had all agreed him going back to school wasn't the best idea. It was almost claustrophobic being stuck in the manor. No matter how big it was. His legs hurt and his body begged to be used. So he threw himself into training. Simon and Jessica pressed him harder, pushing him to limits that he was still having trouble overcoming. Every time that he got to the point where he could feel his power rushing to the surface, he clamped it down and accepted the blow that was coming. 

No one was more frustrated by this than Damian. He yelled at him from the sidelines telling him to try harder, to stop giving up. Dick tried to tell him to stop but Jon shook his head. Damian felt every hit that Jon took. He should be mad. He should want him to fight harder. He pushed himself up and faced the Lanterns. He had to focus. “Ready?” Simon called. 

Jon looked back at Damian and nodded. He was ready. He could do better. Simon and Jess moved like one person with a never ending reach. They made up for the holes that the other left. Where Jess had never ending amounts of willpower, Simon knew how to focus it and piece it together. Jon had to move faster to avoid them. He had to if he wanted to protect Damian. So he did. He didn't even realise how fast he had moved until he was behind Simon with his hand grasped around his ankle. The Lantern barely had a moment to realise what was going on before Jon threw him to the other side of the room-

\- And completely lost it when he hit the wall too hard. “No no no no.” He muttered running over to him, repeating it as he helped him sit up and Simon blinked around the room. “I am so sorry!” he told him horrified. “Are you okay? Did I-" 

“Now that's what I'm talking about!” Simon grinned at Jon, clapping his hand hard on his shoulder. Jon helped him up as Jess reached them, concern falling off her face when she saw that her partner was beaming. Jon looked back at Damian. He was watching them with his arms crossed, face as serious as it ever was. His heart sank but he let Jessica lead him back to the mat so they could set up again. 

-

He peeled his shirt off, sweat practically gluing the fabric to his back as he headed for the training room shower. He was exhausted. Actually exhausted from pushing his power up and down all day and felt like he was about to fall over. He took the towel that Dick had offered him and ran it over his face and through his hair, jumping in surprise when Damian popped up as it fell out of his eyes. Jon blinked going red from his state of undress. “How did you do that?” he asked before Jon had time to feel his embarrassment. “With the Lanterns, what changed?”

Jon tilted his head. He hadn’t really thought about that. His eyes drifted to the little group still in the training room. They chatted and slowly started to make their way out so that they could wash up for dinner. “I… don’t really know,” he admitted when they were the only ones left. What exactly had changed? “I felt you watching me and I just… “ He knew was red again. “I wanted to protect you?” 

He could see that the gears turning in Damian’s eyes as he slowly nodded and finally crossed his arms, looking down at Jon’s nakedness. “You should not bare yourself so freely.” he glanced to were the others were still in sight. “I do not like it when the others…” he started before he made a face and fixed John with his hyper focused attention. “Just wait until they are gone,” he muttered before he turned on his heel and left the boy confused. 

-

Jessica and Simon were not in the cave waiting for him the next morning. Instead, Jon walked in to Damian, Jason, and Bizarro muttering in a small circle outside of the training room. They stopped talking as he approached and the way that Jason smirked with his arms crossed put a pit in Jon’s stomach. Jon tried not to stare up at Bizarro as he came to a stop, but he was grinning like he was holding in a joke. Jon didn’t like this at all. 

“Hi?” he offered to the three of them, gaze coming to stop on Damian who was the only one in the group that was all business. “I thought I was training with Simon and Jessica?” he asked in a hushed tone, not wanting to hurt the other’s feelings. 

Damian pursed his lips. “I have come to the conclusion that their way of training is inadequate.” He told Jon easily. Jason smothered a chuckle at the way that Jon’s face dropped. “The progress that you have made with them is fine, but we have to move faster if we want to survive the battle.” 

Jon looked between them all, trying not to feel like he was on display before he bit his lip and set his shoulders. “Can I talk to you,” he hissed under his breath, grabbing Damian’s arm. “Privately.” Damian allowed Jon to pull him to the back corner of the cave where a row of suits sat encased in back lit glass. He turned on him, glancing back at the two outlaws who were quietly talking again. “What is really going on?” he demanded. “My dad told me that I need to be training with Jessica.”

Damian made a face. “Your father does not grasp the timeframe that we are working under.” 

He felt his shoulder tense up. “He’s doing his best,” he told him defensively. “And what are they going to be able to teach me that Jessica and Simon can’t?” He asked waving back at the empty space that Jason and Biz had occupied. 

“Easy,” Jason told him, now perched on the rail to the side on the casing. “We are okay with breaking the rules.” He had his gun lifted and pointed directly at Damian’s head. He stared at Damian as he stood with his arms still crossed, seemingly disinterested by the immediate danger staring him in the face. Jason smirked, finger on the trigger. Damian nodded and almost before he had time to think about it, Jason pulled the trigger. Jon shouted. His body reacted on it’s own. He shot in front of the bullet, it bounced off of his shoulder as he steeled himself against it. His eyes flared at the grinning Jason. 

A lot of things happened in quick succession then. He jumped on Jason, ripping him from his perch on the wall before throwing him onto the ground by his collar. Jason held his hands up in surrender. Bizarro grabbed Jon around the middle and launched him across the room into the wall. Jon gasped in a quick breath as he fought to regain the air knocked out of him. Damian had not moved. Bizarro grunted as he grabbed the giant penny off the wall and launched it toward Damian. Jon shouted and sped to him. He spared a glance at Damian as he ran past him and into the trajectory of the coin. He braced himself. The hit was hard and pushed him backwards. His muscles felt like they were on fire as the penny pushed him past the cases and the training room until he skid to a stop against the door. 

Jon coughed and slid to his knees, hands sliding down the coin as he went. His entire body was shaking as the door opened to a very angry Bruce. He blinked at the penny that was blocking him out of the cave and pulled Jon off the floor where he was coughing his lungs back to life and started them back. 

“What the hell is going in here?” he demanded as he pulled Jon through the small opening in the side. 

Jason actually managed to look ashamed when his father came through the door but Damian looked him square in the eye, not one bit sorry for the damage that he’d created. “We are training,” he told him with a small quirk of his brow, daring the man to say anything. 

Bruce looked back at Jon and clenched his jaw as he turned back to the men in front of him. “Not like this, not here,” he seethed and turned to Jon. “Where are the Lanterns?”

He stared down at the floor and rubbed the back of his head. “Damian sent them home… sir.” His face was burning from the shame and embarrassment that his body was now made of.

“They were ineffective,” Damian said easily from where he was now standing at Bruce’s side. Jon shot him a look to shut up before he made things worse but he wasn't paying attention to him at all. 

“That is not for you to decide,” Bruce told him in a tone so low that he wondered if the non-supers in the room could even hear him. His glare turned to Jon, who did his best not to shrink under it and he hissed, “My office. Now,” before stalking out of the room. “And put that back,” he told Jason, hitting the penny on his way out.

Jon watched him walk out, dread boiling in his stomach as he told the frustrated tears burning in his eyes to stay put. He had never seen Bruce this angry, especially not at him. He turned to follow him, tail tucked, and shoulders slouched. He heard Damian call after him but he only barely hesitated before continuing the long trek back up to the manor and Bruce's office. 

Bruce was leaned against his desk with his arms crossed. His eyes directed Jon to the chair directly in front of it. Jon sank into it, and through it, and directly to hell where he wished he could hide from the way that Bruce was looking at him. As it was, Jon was forced to sit in silence as Bruce looked him head to toe with the slowest crawl of his silent rage. He cleared his throat and spoke slowly. “When your father sent you to Gotham with me, I promised him and your mother that you would be safe,” he told him as Jon’s heart jumped into his throat. “I fed you. I made sure you had a roof over your head. I made sure that you were in the best school with a constant watchful eye-and you spent that time lying to me.” 

And his heart dropped, straight through his stomach and into hell with the rest of him. “B-but B-" he started and Bruce held up his hand. He quieted, swallowing on the lump in his throat. 

“I can understand why you did what you did. You cannot help who you are bound to- but you should, at least by now, understand the incredible danger that you are in. Damian…” he hesitated on the name like it felt wrong, “Has been trained to kill all his life. And even if he chose not to kill you, he puts himself in harm's way on a daily basis. His hurt is now yours as well.” He took a heavy breath. “Your bond and the effect of your bond is not something that we can control. But I will not allow the two of you to play around with each others lives.” 

Jon was shaking his head as soon as he started his last sentence. “We weren't!” He exclaimed as he stood. “He was just trying to-" 

“It doesn't matter what you were  _ trying _ to do. This was  _ done _ ,” Bruce walked around desk and typed something into his computer quickly, rotating the screen so that Jon could watch it. The entire bizarre training exercise played out before them. “This was almost done.” He pointed out the bullet that he barely managed to block. “A life isn't something to play with. His life is yours now. Your life is his. If you had missed-"

“I didn't-" 

“ _ If you had missed _ , you would both be dead,” Bruce continued over him. Jon quieted, staring down at his feet. Jon had nothing to say back to him. He wouldn't have gone along if he'd known what was about to happen. But could he really apologize? He'd stopped the bullet. He’d blocked the penny. He hadn't even had to think about it. He did it. Like his father did. But Bruce didn't see that at all. 

There was a knock on the door and Alfred came into the room, he cleared his throat and they both looked to him, the heat of the moment drifting out of them. “I have brought Master Damian as requested, Sir,” he told him stiffly. 

Bruce nodded and for the first time he looked out of his comfort zone. “Please escort Jon to his room, Alfred. Send Dick to make sure he stays there.”

Damian met Jon's eyes as he walked out. Jon looked down, shame painted across his face. He felt his anger rising and clenched his fists tighter as Pennyworth directed him into the office. He stared at his father and the man looked back at him. 

“What happens in this house, in that cave, is my responsibility. You will not disregard the safety of anyone within these walls for curiosity’s sake.” 

“It was not a curiosity,” he ground out. “I knew that he would succeed.” He could see the dismissal of his statement and an anger he had not let escape in years rose in him. “You knew. You knew he would not succeed with the Lanterns. You have fed this fear of who he is for his entire life. You knew that it would prevent him from fully utilizing his abilities. But you let him try anyway, knowing he would fail. I am not the one disregarding the safety of someone for a  _ curiosity _ .”

His father's hands slammed on the desk as he stood up, fire and anger in his eyes. “It is not your place to question me!” he roared. Damian sucked in a breath and when he let it out the anger was gone and the only thing left was the anticipation of the repercussions for his outburst. He dared to look at his father's face and saw the disappointment there. 

He hated how small his voice sounded when he spoke. “You have made it clear I do not have any place here. My mother will come for me and she will ensure that I have nothing to return to. Once Jo-the Superboy is dealt with my  _ only _ tie here will be gone.” He ducked his head in a bow.

“I warned you my dear child. I told you that you would never be good enough for him.” He turned toward the first voice his ears had ever heard. “I wanted to save you from the pain of having him pick another over you.” His mother stood in the doorway. She was alone, but he knew that there were others with her. “Come home, Damian. Come with me now and we can end this.” She held out her hand to him and he wanted to take it. If only to keep Jon safe. He stepped forward but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. His mother's eyes lit up and she smiled. “Hello, Beloved.” 

“Talia.” A shoulder moved into his line of sight as his father stepped between him and his mother. “How could you?” he asked, his voice raw. His mother looked at the man before her, her former love. She smiled, but it held anything but joy. Then her eyes drifted to him. She frowned, her disappointment clear on her face. 

“He was not ready. There was still too much of your heart in him. And then you gave your love to another and I wanted to hurt you like you'd hurt me.” Her eyes turned sharp as she looked back at his father. “I see that I succeeded.

“Is this your answer, Damian? Do you wish to stay?” He looked at his mother. “Tell me the truth.” Her voice was ice. 

“I do,” he breathed. He watched as her surprise, hurt, and anger coalesced into a cold resolve. His arms went up at her first movement, he had no weapons to block the attack, but he didn't need one. A small dagger, used to open letters, hung in the air an inch from his face as his father blocked his mother's strike. 

“I will have my son,” she growled. 

“Go,” his father said facing off against her. 

Damian went back, out the window. It was the only retreat he could make. He ran on the grounds, there was no one out there. He shouted for Jon. He shouted for the Superman. They would need his help. He knew the people living in this house. He knew that they would fight with everything they had and that they wouldn't stop. He didn't know if they would win. Jon's patio door swung off its hinges as a pair of assassins flew backward through them. Jon jumped through the window. He landed softly, floating at the last second without a thought. Dick followed, flipping down to the ground below. 

“What is going on?” Dick asked. 

“They are here.” He heard gunshots and the next thing he knew a wall halfway down the side of the building burst out and Bizarro swat an assassin who jumped at out of the air.

“Where is Tim?” Dick asked when Jason joined them. A wave of black clad soldiers started to surround them. They stepped out of the shadows one by one.  

“He won't leave Stephanie. He doesn't care that the control room is the safest place on earth. He's standing guard.” Jason said as he shot a few warning shots. 

“He shouldn't be alone down there,” Dick started back to the hole in the wall. 

“He's not. Steph is piloting one of the suits. Between her and Alfred, they've got his back.” 

Jon touched Damian’s hand. He looked over at him. “It’ll be okay,” Jon told him. He gripped Jon's fingers. He couldn't say it back. He wouldn't let the last thing he said be a lie. Jon's fingers slipped from his and he watched him grin and raise his fists. 

It didn't take long for him to get the sword from his first opponent and once he was disarmed the man fell easily. He left him alive even though he knew it was a risk. Jason was shooting legs and knees even Bizarro wasn't using his full force. Jon blocked an arrow on its way to Dick. He shot the archer with his heat vision. It was a brief burst and from the frustration he saw on Jon's face it wasn't what he had intended. 

As Damian knocked out the next two men he saw a shape walking across the lawn. His mother came into view, her face bruised and lip bleeding. She looked determined as she stalked toward them. The assassins who were between her and them parted. He spared a thought for his father before he noticed the green dagger in her hand. 

He looked back to where Jon was fighting. Her eyes were only on the Superboy. He threw one of the daggers he'd taken. She dodged it easily and looked over at him. She smiled, a vicious thing that transformed her face. His fingers tightened on his sword as he ran at her. 

He hadn't faced his mother in years and as they fought he realised that she was afraid of him. He was the one person that could have taken her position from her, his grandfather had intended it to be his. He dodged a wide slash. He wished that he had been brave enough to tell her that he had never wanted to take it from her. He'd only ever wanted to make her proud. A blade streaked through the air and his mother's sword was knocked from her arm. He took the opportunity presented to him and spun to knock her feet out from under her. 

Damian stepped forward and looked down at his opponent. She looked up at him. His mother. His heart yearned to go to her, to have her hold him. He wanted this to be over and he wanted things to go back to how they were when he was younger. When he didn't have to hide his love for her because he had been sure that she had loved him as much. But things could never go back. She didn't. She could never. This would only end one way. He knew what he had to do… he just had to do it. He pulled his arm back preparing to strike, he'd make it quick. He looked at the fear in his mother's eyes and his arm froze. His eyes widened as his breath caught in his chest. The fear dropped out her mouth twisted in a tooth filled grin as she got to her knees. His legs gave out and he sunk down. She touched his face, pulling him closer to her. 

“Your father's heart always was your greatest weakness,” she whispered pulling the dagger from between his ribs. 

It didn't hurt. He was surprised. Although maybe he shouldn't have been. His life was pain, maybe his death was always meant to be painless. A small mercy from the universe. “Damian,” he heard Jon's voice, only his voice, and the pain came rushing back. But it was not a physical pain. His heart was breaking at the knowledge that Jon would die with him. He closed his eyes and pleaded to whoever was listening that they would not take him too. “Damian!” Jon yelled, his voice sounded strange, distorted. 

Wind whipped at his face and he felt a steady warmth fill him as his heart slowed its frantic hammering. He felt Jon. The little taps to get his attention, the hugs, and his arms wrapping him up tight in his sleep, the barest tickle of his breath against his lips as he leaned in for a kiss, the brush of his hair against his forehead when they pulled away. He didn't feel pain, he only felt-

“Jon.”

\---

There were so many of them. 

Jon took down one after another, but no matter who he punched or threw or kicked or blew away- there was always another body there to take their place. All of them seemed to see Jon and Biz as the largest threats so they came down on them in numbers knowing it was their only hope to take them down. And Jon was so tired. He kept turning his head, trying to find Damian through the throngs but everywhere he looked an assassin filled his view. He caught a glimpse, a small one of him standing above a woman with his sword poised. But he lost it just as quickly when a group of three men ran at him. He concentrated and shoved off of the ground enough to send himself ten feet in the air and he sped back to the ground with enough forced to crack it. 

The men were left unsettled and Dick came in behind them to help Jon finish them off. “Not bad!” he grinned at him over the noise, not quite his normal carefree smile, but it was comforting to see nonetheless. And for a second Jon thought that they might actually win this. They were still outnumbered sure, and they were less trained- but they had something that the assassins didn't - heart. 

He grinned back at Dick, scrambling for something cool to say just like in the comics, but a sharp pain hit him in the chest and he doubled over. 

Dick was next to him, hand on his shoulder until more men came at them and he held them off. He was yelling something that Jon couldn't hear as the noise of the battle fell away and all he could hear was his own heart and his own breathing. Jon grabbed at his chest, searching for whatever had hit him but there was nothing there and his hand came away dry. Was he having a heart attack? Had he pushed himself too hard? Dick was talking to him again. The men that had surrounded them were down and Bizzaro was blocking the horde that was pushing forward from the manor. Dick shook him but Jon was trembling, panic starting to fill him. He wasn't hurt, but something was wrong, something was-

His head snapped up to where he had seen Damian above the woman. They had switched places now, Damian on his knees before her as he held his bleeding chest. She held his face, smiling sadly down at him and all of the noise came rushing back to him as Jon let out a sound that he wasn't entirely sure was human but he had intended to be Damian’s name. 

The woman’s eyes snapped up in alarm as he appeared in front of her, pain and shock wearing away his control as he shoved her hand away from Damian with a snap. She wasn't allowed to touch him. Not like that. Not like he… 

“How are you still alive?” the woman demanded, clutching her arm hard to her chest. “I killed him. You should-" Jon barely moved his hand but he shoved her far enough away that she didn't come back.

He shook Damian, kneeling in front of him, barely keeping him on his knees. “D…” he shook him ignoring the pain in his own chest. “No!” he said shaking him again but Damian’s head had gone limp and his hand had fallen to his side, blood pooling around them. Jon pulled him against him, clinging to him as a sob ripped out of his throat and the air started to shift around him. He couldn't stop thinking about the last time he had seen him, walking by him in the hallway, angry about his talk with Bruce. He hadn't even said anything to him. Until he jumped out the window and told him-

“It's g-gonna be o-okay,” he choked out, rocking him even though Jon knew that he was only rocking himself. Damian was gone. His mother had killed him. And the pain that was burning like a fire in his veins would kill Jon too. 

“Jon, what-" Dick came to a hard stop in front of him, eyes widening when he saw Damian clutched to his chest. His hand went up to his mouth and he let out a soft, “Oh… oh no.” that sounded like a shout as the full realisation of what was about to happen hit him. He took a step forward but immediately fell back as the ground started vibrating. 

Bruce fell in next to Dick a moment later, hand going to his shoulder to keep him on his feet as he took in the sight. He yanked Dick back hard, forcing him to move as assassins came down on them, trying to take Damian away. But Jon wouldn't let him. If it was the last thing he did, he would keep Damian with him until he couldn't any more. 

They never made it that far. 

A surge ran through his body into the already shaking ground and a glaring heat fell out of him and into the swarm. The smell of fire and flesh was bad but not as bad as the sight of their skin melting away from their bones. 

Fear hit Jon hard but it only made him feel more out of control. His pain gave way to heat and the ground shook harder, breaking and floating around them as gravity stopped making sense. He buried his face in Damian’s shoulder and tried to tell himself this wasn't happening. This was a bad dream. He would wake up and his dad would be there asking if he was okay or if he wanted to help him with the tractor. He imagined that Damian was holding him, squeezing him hard and saying his name over and over. Yelling it. Shaking him. 

His eyes opened, blurred from heat and tears, but he could see him. Damian. It was Damian. “Jon, stop!” he yelled, taking his face in his hands and pulling him so that their foreheads were rested together. “It is okay,” he told him. He told Jon that again and again until he could breathe and the ground stopped shaking. 

Black spots played around his eyes as he clung to his wrists and his dad landed next to them looking winded and he didn't see anything else.

\- 

It was dark when he woke up in bed, his own bed, back on the farm in Smallville. It felt like an entire lifetime had passed by since the last time he had been there. He used to think about it all the time. When he'd had a particularly bad day at school or training had been hard, he would think about curling up in his small bed and being able to hear the rain on the tin roof. But it wasn't raining. He sat in the glow of the blue night light and thought that it was too quiet. And Jon needed desperately for some kind noise to come wash these thoughts out of his head. 

He rolled over and clung to his pillow, shoving his face into it as his heart started hammering in his chest. The door creaked open. Jon knew his dad was there but he kept his face hidden, trying to calm himself down but he couldn't. He could still see all of those people. Their skin melting off of them when they got too close but they never turned around. Impossibly white bones turning to dust on Bruce’s front lawn. 

His dad rubbed his back for a few minutes not saying anything, just being there. He must have been so ashamed. Of his murderer son who couldn't control his powers. Jon lifted his red rimmed eyes to look at him but he didn't look angry. He looked sad, really sad. “We’re back home?” Jon asked suddenly needing the confirmation. 

“Yeah bud,” he told him softly, squeezing his shoulder. 

“Damian is okay?” he asked, barely able to get it out as all of the blood pooling around them flashed behind his eyes. 

“Damian is alive,” his father said. “He's back at the manor with Bruce.” 

The way that he said it was so formal, like he and B had disagreed on it or had a fight. Maybe Damian hadn't wanted to see Jon, and how could he blame him? Jon had killed all of those guys and maybe they weren't his family, but he had known them- grew up with them. And his mom. “Is his mom okay?” he asked, “She stabbed him and I pushed her. Her arm was broken…” he trailed off as his dad shifted uncomfortably, not meeting Jon’s eyes. 

Oh. 

She wasn't okay. 


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

The breeze was light, it soothed the warmth of the sun on his face. He looked out across the lake. It had been three weeks since the Kents left. Since Jon’s father had landed in front of him, lifted Jon into his arms and said he was taking him home. Since he’d been left standing in the tiny circle of grass at the center of the destruction and watched them disappear into the sky. The walls that Jon had destroyed had been repaired, the grass replaced. Damian could barely see where the damage had been. Jon hadn't spoken to him. Damian had called once and had listened to Lois tell her son who was calling. He had heard Jon’s muffled voice say that he wasn't there. He'd listened to the regret in her voice when she'd said that Jon had stepped out, but would call him later. Jon hadn't and Damian hadn't called back. He'd known from the beginning that his happiness wasn't something that was meant to last. Losing it hurt nonetheless.

Familiar footsteps walked up the small dock behind him. He looked up as Jason stopped next to him and sat down. 

“You could join us, first warm day of spring.” He looked over and watched his father throw Dick into the water. Dick shrieked in laughter before he hit the water. He watched them for a few minutes. He must have been quiet for too long because Jason shook his hair out, spraying water droplets across his face. Damian sputtered and rubbed his face. Jason grinned at him when he turned to glare. 

Jason’s voice was soft when he started talking. “If I'm wrong about why you're up here and not in the water, then I'm wrong, but they won't judge you. We all have scars. Bruce might get all misty eyed. He still does when he sees mine.” Jason touched the Y shaped scar stretching across his chest. “But the others, they have their own. So you should come. You can soak with Steph if you want. I'm sure she would like the company.” Jason rose and offered him a hand up. He took it. 

His father was the first to notice them. He saw his eyes cataloging each scar on his chest, and the softness that touched his eyes like Jason had said. He touched the smooth skin where his mother's blade had slid, nervously. There was no scar, no proof that it had happened. Nothing except the empty space at his side. 

“Damian! Finally. You're on Jason's team,” Dick said. Tim cheered and waded over to Steph who was floating on a giant duck. 

“Cool. I need a good partner for once,” Jason called out toward Tim who flipped him off. “Don't freak,” he said a moment later. The next thing he knew he was being lifted from the water. Jason's hands wrapped around his shins as he sat on his shoulders. Dick was laughing where he was leaning against his father. 

“Oh man. Your face.” 

“Come on. Let's start this thing. He's heavier than he looks.” Jason complained. Dick started to respond but in a flurry of movement he was sitting on his father's shoulders and holding on tightly to his hair with a panicked look on his face. Jason started laughing shoulders shaking, and moving Damian with them. “Your mission: Push Dick off,” Jason said and stepped closer to the other pair. He raised his hands as Dick demonstrated. 

He cheered when Dick surfaced a few minutes later. “Way to go D!” Jason held up his hand and he high-fived it, like they'd shown him. 

“You cheated,” Dick called and launched himself at Jason. They all went down in a wave of water. Jason let go of his legs as soon as he hit the water. He surfaced with a smile on his face. His father had Dick by the waist as he tried to attack Jason who was laughing. 

“Dickiebird is a terrible loser. Don't let him ruin our victory,” Jason crowed as Dick huffed and stormed off further down the small beach dragging his father after him. Damian watched them go for a few seconds then turned to Jason. 

“Fun?” Jason asked. He shrugged in response. He floated drifting toward the deeper water. He'd never been the biggest fan of water, but he didn't mind this. “How are you?” Jason asked and made a face after like he felt stupid for asking. He didn't answer, but closed his eyes. 

“Damian,” Jason said quietly. 

“Why is he not angry with me?” 

Jason blinked in surprise. He looked over to where his father had shoved Dick's head under the water with a smile. “Bruce? Why would he be angry with you?” Jason sounded genuinely confused. 

He scoffed. “I heard him talking with the Wonder Woman. Superman has not spoken to him since that day.”

“That's not your fault,” Jason told him. 

“If I had not hesitated this would not have happened. Jon would not have lost control.”

“She was your mother,” Jason spat. 

“I know,” he mumbled and closed his eyes against the unwanted grief. “I knew what she would do and I could have stopped it. If I had then Jon-” He bit off the words. He knew that Jon had lost control before, had injured people, but from what his father had told him it was nothing like what had happened at the manor. 

He closed his eyes as the memory. There hadn't been any bodies, nothing remained of the warriors that had come with his mother. He’d stepped off of the grass onto the rough and torn ground. The destruction had spread out far. He could see the others spreading out to search for anyone that might remain. His father’s voice had been so quiet when he’d called his name. He looked over to him in time to see him reach out briefly before letting his hands drop. He’d barely felt the heavy fabric of the cape slide over his shoulders. Dick found his mother’s body at the tree line. His father’s arms wrapped around him and he realized he’d been trembling this entire time. His father’s solemn voice echoed in his ears. They cremated her then. He buried his face into his father’s shoulder and let the anguish surging within him out.

“I miss him,” Damian admitted. “I understand why he does not wish to see me, to speak to me, but I miss him.” If it was anyone else they might have told him that they were sure Jon missed him too, but Jason didn't. He floated next to him in silence. 

“Boys, Alfred brought lunch,” his father called out. Jason splashed him in the face with a knowing look. He rubbed his eyes and wiped the water off his face as he followed him back to the shore. 

-

“We're not trying to decapitate people, kiddo,” Dick chuckled. He frowned at the batarang in his hand. He didn't understand the need of shape, or the name. Dick had pat his shoulder and told him it was all part of the mystique when he'd complained after missing the target. The weight was unlike anything he'd used before. He threw three more quickly and Dick sighed. They all hit the target in the head. “I know you did that on purpose.” He smiled to himself and watched Dick set up the next target. He hit each wrist and the left shoulder before Dick had stepped away from the target. 

“Are you and Jason working together to try and kill me?” Dick grumbled as he stalked out of the practice room shouting for Jason. 

“Master Damian,” he tossed another batarang at the target striking it in the middle of the throat. “You have a phone call.” Pennyworth handed him the cordless phone. 

“Damian?” Jon asked. He heard the plastic creak as he held the phone tighter. 

“Hi,” he breathed for what felt like the first time in a month. “Jon, are you-” 

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I just had to say that. I just needed you to know. I won't - uh bother you again.”

“What?” he shook his head. He was sure that he was hearing wrong. “Why are you- You saved my life.”

“I-I killed your mom,” Jon whispered. His heart throbbed at the pain in Jon's voice. He'd never envied Jon's powers but right then he would have given anything to be able to fly to him. “So I won't bother you anymore.” He'd taken too long to answer. 

“No, Jon. Can I see you? Please?” 

“Damian,” Jon said and he knew he was going to say no, he could hear the refusal coming. 

“I will wait for you at the Viking game.” 

“I don't think it's a good idea. I have to go. I'm sorry.” He wanted to tell him not to be sorry, to simply be here, but the line went dead. He handed the device back to Pennyworth without a word. 

“Would you like me to get the car?” Pennyworth asked. He shook his head then nodded. Jon had waited for him, he could wait for Jon. 

Dick went with him. They still didn't like him going into the city by himself. He didn't mind the company and Dick was a surprisingly good teacher when it came to the game. The lights clicked on along the pier and one of the kids that had been waiting grumbled behind him. He turned to yell at him, but Dick pulled him away. “Why don't we take a break?” He let out a sigh, trying to let go of the frustration building in him.

They sat at one of the tables next to the arcade. He knew Jon wasn't coming. He could tell that Dick knew it as well, but was kind enough not to say anything. 

“Your father used to bring me here back when I was Robin,” Dick offered. He had a wistful smile on his face as he looked over the crowds of people and the bright lights. “He was terrible at just about every game. I caught him buying me this stuffed dragon that I wanted once.” 

“Jon won me a sword. I broke it though.” He still had the remains in his room at the manor. 

“Playing too rough?” 

“The man's knee was harder than I expected.” Dick stared at him. “He had made Jon unhappy.” 

“You're so much like Bruce sometimes. It's strange. In a good way,” Dick added at the look Damian gave him. “Bruce nearly punched a reporter last year.” Dick continued with the story. He listened and watched the people around him. They smiled and laughed. “I have to get back. We're going out tonight. We can come back tomorrow if you want,” Dick said in a too soft voice. He hated it. 

“I will beat that game,” he told him. Dick nodded, like that was the only reason. He tugged him under his arm, even though he was taller and talked about what how he could defeat the big boss as they walked to the exit.

\---

Jon pulled the phone into his chest as he hung up, sinking down the kitchen wall in misery. He closed his eyes and let his head roll back with a thud onto the wood paneling. He shouldn't have called. He could still hear Damian in his ear, asking to meet him. He'd said please…

“Jon?” he opened his eyes when his mom entered the room with a handful of grocery bags. She frowned at him, dropping her scarf onto the table. For the past month that look had become normal. A frown and growing concern as he curled more and more into himself. He didn't want to do it, but he didn't know how not to. Jon had lost control before, but it had never been like this, he had never… no one had… “Are you okay, honey?” 

He blinked out of his head and jumped up, hanging the phone back on the receiver. “Yeah, sorry.” He mumbled and tried to put on a good face. “Is there more?” he asked pointing to the bags. 

For a moment he thought that his mother would say something. But it only took that moment for Jon to decide that he wasn't ready to hear it, whatever it was. She had been so quiet when his dad told him what happened, everything that he had done- how he saved Damian but killed at least fifty people in his place. His mother hadn't said a single thing, and Jon couldn't blame her. He didn't know what to say. Could he apologize? He did. Over and over again. But every time he always stopped and thought about what his gran told him when he was little- you shouldn't apologize unless you know what it's for. How could Jon apologize for something he couldn't control? Could he say he was sorry for who he was and leave it at that? Could he say he was sorry for not being who his parents needed him to be? 

His mom forced a smile and touched his face, holding his cheek in a brief and all too familiar way until he flinched away from her and she nodded sadly. “In the truck.” She said softly. “Just a few bags left.”

-

He felt cold when he woke up, having sweat through most of the night. He knew that he should probably tell his parents. Instead he pulled the soaked sheets off his bed and and grabbed the spare from his closet before his mom could come in and find them.

He took a shower. He turned the water up as hot as it would go but he was still cold when he stepped out onto the mat. He got dressed quickly and dragged his feet down to the kitchen where his parents were talking quietly. They stopped when he walked in and forced a smile. “‘Morning.” He said quietly pulling the cereal out of the cabinet. 

“Good morning honey.” His mom met him at the table with the milk and kissed his forehead. “Oh, Jon.” She pressed her lips to his forehead again and then replaced it with her hand. “Clark, come feel this.” 

Then his dad was kissing his forehead, both of them completely uncaring that they were mortifying their only child. “You are burning up kid.” His father frowned, barely even having to look down at him anymore. 

“Maybe you should stay home today,” his mom offered shooting a look at Clark. “We could call Bruce and have him-" 

“No, I'm fine,” Jon told them backing out of the kitchen. He ducked his dad's arm and grabbed his backpack. “Really, I've been hot and cold since…” He cleared his throat when his parents looked at each other. “I feel fine.” He said finally and grabbed his keys off the hook on the wall. “I'll see you after school.” 

-

He felt worse as the day went on. He sat through class trying to pay attention but it was hard getting back in pace with Smallville public schooling. Everything was slower here, and as much as a person could miss math, Jon missed it. He missed the stretch of it. Now, when all he had was sitting still, he couldn't ignore the way his body felt like it was burning from the inside. 

Jon hadn't been lying. This had been happening on and off since the… incident. He would get hot to the point where he felt like he would catch fire and then he would be fine again. He just had to get through the worst of it and he would be fine. 

The road was clear the entire way back to the farm, but Jon took his time pulling his mask together until he looked normal despite the burning in his chest. He pulled up behind the barn and shut the truck off. Everything was too quiet. He knew why as soon as he came around to the front of the house. The same sleek black car he had driven when he stayed with Bruce was sitting in the driveway. He wanted to turn back and run while he could, but the radio silence from inside the house told him that his father had heard him drive up. They already knew he was there. His grip tightened on the straps of his bag as he pushed into the front door and three sets of eyes hit him all at once. 

Bruce looked as cool as he ever did. Long sleeved black shirt and grey slacks making him look every bit of the polished professional he pretended that he wasn't. The last time that Jon had seen him was when they had their talk in his office. And then after that… He had expected for Bruce to look at him differently. Not with the same concern and care he had always shown when dealing with him. “Hello Jon.”

Jon’s eyes went straight to the floor as he hung his bag up with his keys. “Hi,” he mumbled running a hand through his sweaty hair. “What are you doing here?” he asked, looking to both of his parents who weren't even trying to hide their worry at this point. 

He watched and Bruce pursed his lips uncomfortably. “Damian has been feeling... some discomfort over the past few days,” Bruce explained. “It’s been making him anxious. I told him I would stop by and see if there was anything bothering you.” 

So Damian could feel the burning too. He should have known better. He hated himself for not thinking about that sooner. Jon wanted to lie and tell Bruce that he was fine and there was nothing wrong with him, but the thought of Damian, who was so much more breakable than him feeling this pain, made him stop short. “It feels like I'm on fire...in here.” He said pointing to his chest and wincing as a particularly strong surge hit him. 

Bruce nodded and motioned for him to come closer and sit down so he could examine him. Jon tried not to look at the way his mom folded into his father as they watched. 

-

It felt weird being in the cave when he knew that Damian was somewhere in the manor above him. Bruce promised that he would call ahead and had told Alfred to keep the boys busy while he ran his tests. Jon lay strapped to the table wondering what the point of the straps were when he could easily break them, but he stayed quiet as his father and Bruce talked about what he was looking for. 

All together it took about two hours until he was unwrapped and allowed to sit up again. His dad helped him up and Bruce typed a couple of things into a portable pad before he joined them. “We should know what's going on in a couple of days.” He told them. He didn’t sound happy about it. “Until then it might be best if you…” he trailed off when his dad gave him a look and nodded. “Right. I'll call you when we know more.” He sighed and walked them back to the mouth of the cave. 

-

It didn't take them long to get back to the farm and Jon went straight up to his room. He was tired and he felt horrible. His heart hurt thinking about how close he had come to seeing Damian again. He missed him. More than anything, Jon missed talking to him about stupid things, and big things. He missed the adorable way he got confused over completely normal things. He missed the way that he looked at him, protective and confused and sometimes there was something a little more that he couldn't place.

There was a part of him, the stupid and childish part that thought this pain was because he was missing the other part of himself. But he knew that was stupid. They weren't soul mates. They were soul bonded. He had been told the difference a hundred times and he needed to accept it. 

Jon got in bed, sliding his jeans off and pulling his shirt over his head before he pulled the covers up to his nose and turned to the wall, trying to ignore the burning emptiness. 

-

_ Knock knock knock. _

He groaned and pulled the blanket up over his head wondering if he could convince his dad that he should stay home today. He was pretty sure his mom would be happy to let him. Plus, he had already learned most of what they were going over when he was in Gotham. He hid in the blanket hoping that they would open the door, see how pathetic he was and let him sleep. 

_ Knock knock knock.  _

He groaned and pulled the blanket off his head and sat up fast wanting to get it over with. He opened his door but there was only darkness there. He blinked and turned back into his room, grabbing the watch off his bedside table. It was one in the morning. 

The knock came again. This time his eyes went to the window. Jon’s heart stopped when he met the green eyes that he had been dreaming about. The burn that was all but absent in his chest flared hard enough for him to clutch at it.  He swallowed hard as Damian glared at him, motioning for him open the window and let him in. Jon only hesitated for a second before he moved to let him in. 

Damian spilled into his room with impossible grace for how big of a man he was. He folded back to his full height that made Jon feel impossibly small even with the few inches that he had been able to gain on Damian. He didn't know what to say. He thought he should say sorry again but Damian didn't give him the chance. “You were at the manor,” he accused, looking furious. 

Jon nodded warily at him. Damian continued seething. “You were already there. Did you not even think to see me?” he demanded but didn't stop. “I waited at the Viking and you never came.”

“I told you that it wasn't a good idea.” Jon said heavily. 

“And I told you that I would be there.” Damian brushed his comment aside with a low hiss. “You could have stayed until I saw you,” he told Jon. 

“I didn't want to,” Jon shot back, tired of everyone being frustrated with him all he time. 

“Why?” 

“Because I…” I killed all of those people, your people. Jon sighed and sat on the edge of his bed, holding his head in his hands. “I don't deserve to see you.” 

“Why?” 

Annoyance flared in him and he pushed his lips together. “Because I can't control what I can do and I hurt people.”

“And?” Damian demanded crossing his arms. 

“What do you mean and?” 

“I have killed people Jon, more than you have. And you have told me time and time again how that does not matter. That what I have done is not who I am.” Jon was holding onto the burning spot in his chest. “So what makes it different. Why are you no good for me, when I have done worse things and receive nothing but your forgiveness?” 

“Because!” Jon hissed on his feet again, so close that he could reach out and touch him. “Because you are breakable and I am not. Darn it, Damian when I- when I did what I did to your mom.” He hated the way that Damian flinched at that. “I was just trying to push her away from you. I didn't even know what happened until my dad brought me here. Can you imagine what could happen of I lost control with you for even one second? What if I kissed you and pulled you too hard? What if we… if we ever wanted to do those kinds of things… how can I be close to you knowing that I could destroy you in a second without even meaning to?” His hands were shaking. “I won't hurt you. I already lost you, I won't do it again.”

Jon's back hit the wall. Something crashed on the other side of the door. Damian took in the surprise on his face before kissing him. Jon pushed back against him but he pressed him back against the wall. Jon went easily. He didn't know how he'd gone this long without holding Jon. When Jon's hands drew around his back, pulling him fully against him he nipped his lip. Jon made a noise deep in his throat and pulled back. He kissed him softly with a smile. He caught his breath and watched the blush deepen on Jon's face. 

“My dad's coming,” Jon whispered like his father wouldn't hear him. Damian let his hands fall from where he was holding his shoulders. He stepped back and Jon let him go. Clark knocked before opening the door. 

“Damian,” he said and looked them over with a frown. 

“Mr. Kent.” He ducked his head briefly. 

“Does Bruce know you're here?” 

“He is aware. He was not happy that I left the manor.” Or that he'd taken the jet. Or that Tim had helped him. When Tim had opened the hatch so he could drop onto the edge of the Kent farm his father had been in the middle of a lecture. He was sure that he was still talking. 

“It's a school night. Jon needs his sleep.” He knew that tone. There was no point in arguing. He nodded and focused on the button in the middle of the superman’s chest. It was different than the rest. 

“I needed to make sure he was okay.” He looked over to Jon who was still blushing wildly. His eyes dropped to Jon's lips. “I missed you,” he mumbled and dared to meet Jon's eyes. 

Clark cleared his throat. “Damian, I think it's time-” 

He nodded. Then darted forward and kissed Jon. “I know you will not hurt me. I trust you. You should trust yourself.” He touched Jon's lip where he knew it still stung. 

“You can use the do-” He slipped through the window as Clark spoke. He jogged back to the plane, the swirling tension in his stomach receding. 

“You look happy? I'm not sure though. Is that a smile?” He stuck his tongue out at Tim and buckled in as the jet rose. “I'm so glad that Steph taught you that,” Tim grumbled. 

“Is father angry?” 

“I think B is always a little angry. But I don't think he's mad at you.” They flew in silence for a few minutes. “I mean he's super pissed we took the jet, but he's not mad that you went to see Jon.”

-

The light flickered across Dick’s face where he sat next to him. Dick had a huge smile on his face as they watched the movie. Dick had been mouthing along with the dialogue for most of the movie. He poked Damian and told him to watch as the couple walked through the forest. 

“I know what you are,” the girl said.

“Say it. Outloud. Say it.” The guy urged. Dick’s eyes lit up in anticipation.

“Why are we watching this?” Damian asked as the girl spoke. 

“You said you wanted to learn about relationships,” Dick said pointing to the tv. 

“This will not help me. Where is Jason?” he asked pushing himself off the couch. Dick hit a button and the screen froze. 

“No. We'll watch something else. Jason's terrible at this stuff.” 

“At what stuff?” Jason stopped in the doorway with a tray of cookies. 

“Relationships,” Dick said. The screen went black. Whatever they were watching Dick didn't want Jason seeing. 

“You asked Dick for advice?” Jason laughed. “He spent ten years in love with your dad before he finally did anything about it. He's the worst. Actually I think Bruce not seeing it means that  _ he's _ the worst. You practically had it tattooed on your head.” Dick threw a pillow at Jason who dodged it without losing any of his cookies. “What are you wondering about?” Jason asked. Dick looked over, curious too. He hadn't even asked when he'd found him that morning. He'd dragged him into the media room and had started a movie instead. Damian looked at the two men watching him and suddenly regretted his decision. 

“It's nothing. Nevermind,” he mumbled. 

“Is it sex?” Jason blurted

“Jay!” 

“Cause Dickiebird here can definitely give you advice on that.” Jason made a gesture and a face. Dick's jaw dropped. 

“You saw that?” Dick whispered looking horrified. 

“I'm going to find Stephanie,” Damian said and tried to stand. He could feel his face heating up. 

“Oh my god are you blushing?” Jason asked. He sounded delighted at the possibility. “Wait. Have you never - How? Surely someone in the league.” Jason asked. 

“No.” He swallowed and focused on the corner of the pillow next to him.

“This whole time... you and Jon…” Dick trailed off as he looked over to Jason. “I thought for sure.” 

“He is afraid that he'll hurt me,” he mumbled. It was Dick and Jason's turn to flush. 

“Super sperm,” Jason whispered. Dick elbowed him. 

“I told him that I know he would never hurt me. But I don't think he believes me.” Damian sighed. “I don't know what to do. I've never had to consider feelings before.” He picked at the pillow and glanced up at Dick and Jason. “He says that he loves me. How does he know that?” he asked. 

“He feels it,” Dick said.

“It's just a crush,” Jason answered at the same time. Dick shot an exasperated look at Jason. “What? Jon’s sixteen, and D here looks like his dad. The kid’s been mooning over Bruce for his whole life.” 

“Oh,” Damian said softly his chest aching. 

“Don't listen to him,” Dick said quickly. Jason offered him one of the cookies. He took it and a bite. 

-

He was tired, his head ached, and the fever was back. He thought about calling Jon, but it wouldn't help. The last time he'd called Clark had told him Jon couldn't talk. So he pushed aside the discomfort and went about training. He was fascinated by this session. Dick said they practiced their stealth skills by hiding throughout the cave. One person pretended to be a villain and attempted to find everyone else. He was crouched on a beam high in the cave overlooking everything. He could see his father walking calmly through the room as he looked for them. His vision dimmed. He blinked quickly until it focused. He saw his father walk by Stephanie a few times. He knew that the man had seen her, but was letting her stay in the game. When he finally pointed her out, she complained about her stomach giving her away. His father smiled and nudged her toward a chair. She had been having a tough time the last week, but was trying not to let anyone know. His vision dimmed again and he gripped the beam tighter. Tim's phone rang and he stepped out of what had been a wall the second before and started up to the manor without looking at anyone. He touched his head, damp from sweat. Maybe he should lie down. Or close his eyes. 

Damian opened his eyes and was confused to be in his father's arms. He was looking down at him in concern. His arm throbbed as he was set down on the medical table. Pennyworth stepped up and touched his arm. He hissed when he moved it away from where he had it cradled against his chest. 

“It appears to be broken,” the man said.

“What happened?” he asked. 

His father frowned. He thought that might be his only answer, but he continued. “You fell. Luckily you hit a support beam on the way down or I wouldn't have caught you. Did you lose your footing?”

“I closed my eyes,” he said. 

“He has a fever again,” Alfred said. 

“How long?” His father asked.

“A few days,” Damian mumbled. He heard his father's sigh and knew he should have said something. He hadn’t wanted to bother them. He could handle the discomfort. 

“I need to call Clark.”

As Alfred finished wrapping his arm in a splint, he heard the crash of metal hitting stone. He stepped out of the room to his father slowly picking up the scattered tools as everyone watched while pretending that they weren't. He picked up a wrench and set it on the table. Three tools later his father took the spanner from his hand. 

“We'll figure this out.”

A week passed and his arm was still broken. Alfred had replaced the splint with a permanent cast after the second day. The fever persisted and left him feeling dazed. He spent most of his week on the couch watching movies. The day before hadn't been a bad day, he'd barely felt his fever and he'd had more energy than he'd had all week. It was like that one day had been there to show him how good it could be. He woke that morning feeling like he was burning up and freezing at the same time. His damp skin stuck to the blankets, but he couldn't sleep without them. His eyes were blurry as he watched the talking cars. 

“I'm taking him. If Clark wants to kick us out he's welcome to try, but I'm not standing by and doing nothing anymore.” Damian hummed as he was picked up. He listened to the steady heartbeat beneath his ear and drifted off. 

-

“Damian?” he turned into the cool hand touching his face. He blinked and Jon came into focus, worry wrinkling his brow. He ran his finger along it to smooth his worry, but it didn't work. 

“What is wrong?” he asked. His mind felt better, clearer. 

“Nothing.” Jon smiled. It didn’t touch the worry in his eyes.

-

 

Jon fiddled with the cup in front of him. He looked around to Jon's parents and his father where they all sat quietly. He'd felt like himself once again. They both had within a few minutes. Their fathers had argued about them until Jon's mom got home. Which was why they were all at the table with food chilling on their plates. 

“Why don't they spend the weekends together?” Lois asked. She looked at them where they were sharing a side of the small table, chairs pushed together as close at they could be. “A weekend in Gotham and a weekend here?” 

“I don't know if I am comfortable with Jon going to Gotham,” Clark said. He saw his father's fingers curl into fists and knew another argument was coming. 

“I will come here,” Damian said, trying to avoid the fight.

“There,” Lois said with a pointed look to her husband and it was decided. 

-

“You have everything?” Dick asked for the tenth time. Damian looked down at the bag, it had clothes, a few batarangs, a charger for the phone Tim had given him the day before. “I'll pick you up on Sunday night,” Dick said. He nodded. Lois was picking him up on her way home. It was out of her way, but she insisted. Damian was pretty sure it was her way of trying to smooth over the rift between the two men. He didn't think that they had spoken outside of a mission. “Call if anything happens.”

“What do you expect to happen?” Damian asked. 

“I don't know. But call us.” 

“I will be with the Superman. I think I will be fine.”

“But if you're not.”

“I will call.” 

Dick smiled. The doorbell rang, cutting through Dick asking him again if he was sure he had everything. Dick stuck his head out into the hallway, he could faintly hear Alfred talking. 

“Okay. She's here. What is wrong with me? I feel like I'm never going to see you again. Can I?” Dick held his arms out. Damian shrugged and Dick hugged him. He smiled against his shoulder. He'd die before admitting it, but he liked the random hugs. Dick picked up his bag. His father was talking with Lois inside. They both looked up as they walked into the foyer. 

“Do you have everything?” his father asked. He smirked and nodded. “Follow their rules. Call if anything happens.” He looked over to Dick who was studying the laces of his shoes. They were worried for him. He expected it from Dick, but his father almost seemed nervous. 

“We'll get him back to you in one piece,” Lois said with a smile. He could tell it did nothing to dispel their worry. 

As soon as the doors shut him in the car he realized that he would be locked in there for hours with a woman he had barely exchanged words with. That trend continued as they left Gotham. Lois quiet as she changed radio stations as they moved between cities. He watched and after a few times she let him take over control of the radio. 

“I'm getting some ice cream. Do you want any?” Lois asked when they stopped at a gas station. 

“I've never had it before,” he told her. 

She stopped digging through her purse for change and looked at him. “Well we are fixing that right now.” 

She smiled at him as he ate his cone, the chocolate shell collapsing as he bit it. The drive wasn't as tense after that. Lois talked about Jon, she talked about her husband, she talked about their life before they'd come here. 

“Damian,” she said as he fiddled with the radio. “What are your intentions with my son?” he let go of the radio. She'd asked questions about himself carefully, sliding them in between her stories. He answered them easily. This wasn't such an easy question. 

“Intentions?” he asked. 

“Yes, what do you want from him?”

“I want him to be happy,” he told her. “I just want him to be safe and happy, whatever that means.” 

Lois hummed and started telling a story about Clark, back when they had first started dating. By the end of the trip he was telling her about the movies he’d watched with Dick, the books he’d argued over with Jason, and the games Stephanie and Tim had taught him. Lois laughed as he told her that they liked to cheat. Jon had her laugh.  

Lois kissed Jon's cheek when they got back to the farmhouse. Jon's hands didn't move from his side. Damian looked at him and couldn't stop thinking about what Jason had said. It was stupid. Jon still looked devastated behind the smile he’d plastered on, and he was worried about a crush. The dim feeling of fatigue faded as Jon showed him around the house. Jon was quiet, withdrawn. He wanted to shake him and make him go back to his normal upbeat self. Dick had warned him not to force it. They’d talked for hours on the boardwalk the week after Damian had come to the farm that first time. He’d known Jon wouldn’t come, but their visits had becomes something else. Dick had told him to make sure Jon knew that he was there for him. He looked at Jon pointing at towels in a closet in the hallway and didn’t know how to do that. Clark called them downstairs for dinner when Jon pointed at his parent’s bedroom and stopped. Lois and Clark talked about their days. Lois made him tell a few of the stories he’d told her on their trip, and about the battle he’d lost with the ice cream pop. She drew Jon in, and even though Superman answered a fire call halfway through and returned smelling of smoke, he hadn't thought it would feel as normal as it did.

-

He couldn't sleep. The pull out couch that they had set up for him in the living room creaked with his every move. He sat up and looked around the darkened room. There were pictures of the family at the beach, and other trips he thought Lois might have mentioned. Most of the pictures were of Jon. He chuckled at the one that looked like Jon was hugging a tree. He knew Jon's room was off limits. Both of the Kents had made that clear. So he walked outside instead. It was dark, darker than it ever got in Gotham. He looked up at the stars. He walked out into the yard and stood there looking up, the sky spreading wide above him. He missed it. He heard the creak of screen door and knew that the Superman was checking on him. After a few moments the door creaked again and Damian was alone again. The noises of the farm hadn't changed since he'd last been here. An idea hit him and he looked back at the house. It didn't take much effort for him to get on the roof. He laid down above Jon's room and looked back up at the stars. His mind drifted. 

“Damian?” He opened his eyes and looked over to where Jon was pulling himself up. “What are you doing up here?” 

“I couldn't sleep.” 

“So the roof?” Jon asked gesturing to the space before him.

“I like it up here. It's peaceful.” He looked up at the stars. “I hated it here at first. There were no places to hide. The corn made noise all the time. Every board creaks. But up here I watched the stars and thought about my life if I stayed here.”

“What do you mean?” Jon asked. He glanced over to his frown. 

“I watched you for days before that night in the barn,” he admitted. “I watched all of my targets. It started as part of the job, finding the right moment, but then…” He hesitated. “It was freedom. For those few days I could pretend that my life was something else. But now, all I have is freedom and I don't know what to do.” 

Jon ran a hand down his arm, grabbing his own elbow to keep it at his side. He shifted so that he could lay on the roof next to Damian, not close enough to touch, but close enough to where he could feel the heat coming off of his arm. The sky was especially clear above them, clear enough to make him want to fly into it and grab at the stars. But he was too afraid. Afraid to fly, afraid of how far he might go, afraid of not being able to come back once he'd gotten high enough. So he watched it longingly and rolled his head to look over at Damian who was already watching him. “What do you  _ want _ to do?” he asked quietly, barely able to hold back his smile when he saw his eyes dart to his mouth before they went back up to the sky. 

He made a face, “What am I supposed to want?” Damian asked. “My whole life has been learning how to be the best at one thing and now I understand that it’s… wrong,” he struggled to get out. “I have not been allowed to want.”

“But that doesn't mean you can't.” Jon argued. 

“Maybe it does,” he told him bitterly, sitting up and pulling his knees into his chest. “Maybe I’m past that point in life where you learn how to want and it's done. I only know what I need.” He looked back at Jon, annoyed and so sad. “What am I supposed to want? What do you want?”

He sat up, carefully, thinking entirely too hard about every movement as he rolled onto the balls of his feet and his knees, placing a hand on either side of Damian’s face. He gave him a moment to read his intention and when he didn't move, he closed the distance. 

Jon knew that he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be happy with Damian after everything he had done to get him back. But Damian deserved this. He deserved to be happy and he deserved to want things. And if for some reason he wanted Jon, then Jon would do whatever he could to make himself better for him. He would be normal and careful and safe… and if he couldn't do that, he would leave him alone. 

-

The next morning, he woke up early. He spent time practicing a smile in the mirror until it hurt and he was staring at himself, holding his cheeks. It used to be so easy, but now it was just exhausting and it hurt. He tried again, starting small so that it didn't feel like he was faking it as much. His dad knocked, opening the door before he could hide his practice smile. He over compensated by grinning at him. “Um… good morning?” he asked. 

“Morning Pa,” he said too cheerily. His cheek spasmed making the edge of his mouth twitch and his hand went up to grab it automatically.

They stared at each other for a minute and he saw his dad do a quick scan of the room, before he decided it was better not to ask. “Ma is making breakfast. Why don’t you and Damian help me in the barn while she gets ready?” Jon nodded and let his smile fall away as he left the room. He climbed back out onto the roof. He hadn't had the heart to wake Damian up last night. They had been up there for hours watching the sky silently wondering what the heck they were supposed to do. 

He crawled forward and shook him slightly, “Damian?” he muttered and shook him again when he groaned and pushed him away. He blinked unhappily at him and Jon couldn't help the easy grin that showed his teeth. “My dad needs help in the barn. C’mon.” He waved to him as he climbed back down through the window, not wasting any time in his room so that Damian could have a little privacy. 

He waited on the front porch for ten minutes until Damian pushed it open in a pair of jeans and black shirt. It was still strange seeing him outside of his assassin clothes, but he tried not to let it show. He followed Jon to the barn where his dad was already mucking out stalls. He smiled at them and waved them over. Damian didn’t seem bothered by the smell at all. “I think I can handle the stalls today, will you boys lay some fresh hay down and milk Bess?” 

“‘Course Pa,” he nodded and reached to grab Damian’s arm before he hesitated. He threw up his practice smile and nodded him over with his chin. They started with the straw. His dad had finished the majority of the stalls and they’d need to get the horses back in before he brought Bess out. Damian didn’t compla. He actually seemed to like the work and he didn’t question Jon when he asked him to help him move a bail over. 

He tied Bess to a feed trough and grabbed a bucket from the shelf by the front door. It had been a few days since she had been properly milked and she had been moving a little uncomfortably. Damian was watching her hesitantly, untrusting, as Jon pulled up a stool and placed a bucket under her. “She won’t bite you.” Jon grinned at him. “Touch her, say hello.” He milked the cow and listened as Damian muttered a hello and started talking to her as she shifted uncomfortably around. Jon pat her side to settle her. Damian held her face, telling her what a good cow she was as he finished up. 

They walked her back to the stall and slipped the harness off her face. Jon was wrapping it back up when Damian closed the stall and said, “I want a cow.” 

Jon blinked. “You want a cow?” he repeated. Damian nodded very seriously at him. Jon had to remind himself that he needed to treat this as seriously as Damian did if he wanted him to figure this stuff out. “Where would you keep it?” he asked. 

“Here,” he said easily. “If I am going to be here every week. You could help when I am not here-” he stopped and fixed Jon with his serious gaze again. “You would help me right?”

Heat spread across his face at the earnest way Damian was looking at him. “You want to share a cow with me?” 

“Of course.” 

Jon swallowed hard and had to make himself look away. “How about we start smaller?” he asked, and pushed through his hesitation to offer his hand to him as they walked back to the house. 

-

After breakfast Damian helped his mom clear the table while Jon followed his dad back to the barn to move the tractor off to the side. He knew that his dad didn’t really need his help, but he went with him anyway. He could feel a talk coming on. Jon waited to the side as his dad lifted the vehicle and moved it to the back of the barn out of the way of the live stock. Clark sat on a the stack of hay and pat the empty spot next to him so that he could sit down. “Am I in trouble?” he asked after the silence got to be too much for him. 

“No!” His father said too quickly, “No. Not at all. It’s just…” He sucked in a heavy breath and stared uncomfortably down as his hands. “Your mother and I were talking last night and well kid, we think it might be time to talk about… you know.” 

Jon closed his eyes. If he could have melted into the floor he would have. “Please don’t,” he begged him. 

“I know it’s not the same for two boys,” His father continued pressing forward, his face as red as Jon’s, “But I have been doing some reading and I think that I can-” 

“I’m not having sex!” Jon blurted with his face in his hands. “Not now or probably ever okay, so please stop talking.” 

“I don’t like talking about it either, kid, but believe me you need to know these things.” 

“No, I don’t,” Jon told him standing up fast. “Even if I wanted to have sex with Damian, I can’t. So we really don’t need to have this conversation,” he gushed quickly, moving to make a quick escape. 

Clark caught his wrist before he could get too far. He pulled him back so that he was standing in front of him and waited for his son to look up before he kept talking. “What do you mean you can’t?” he asked him. It wasn’t mean or demanding, and the kindness alone was almost enough to make Jon break. But he didn’t need to answer him.  Understanding almost instantly filled his father’s eyes before his shoulders drooped and he pulled Jon closer. “Jon, you can have a perfectly normal sex life,” he said in a voice that was intentionally soft, trying not to shatter him. 

But he didn’t get it. How could he? His dad was freaking Superman, literally the most perfect and controlled person in the world- and Jon was his screwball son would couldn’t even fly straight. “I don’t want to hurt anybody else,” he whispered.  The power that was burning inside of him flared as he used it to break free of his father’s hold. He quickly pushed to the barn opening.

His dad came after him, but Damian was waiting on the porch, concern lighting his face when he saw Jon and immediately jumped to his feet. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Jon forced a smile and nodded, throwing it back to his dad who still looked like he wanted to finish their conversation. “I’m fine.” He brushed it off with an easy swipe of a hand across his cheeks. “Are you ready to go?” he asked. Damian looked over his shoulder to his dad before he nodded. Jon walked straight for his truck. “We’ll be back in about an hour.” He shot back to his dad before he climbed into the driver’s seat and waited for Damian to climb in. 

They were quiet for the few miles it took to get out onto a road that wasn’t made of dirt. Jon couldn’t take the silence anymore. He flipped on the radio. It was too loud as an old country song from when he was a kid played. He scrambled to turn the volume down and muttered along with it quietly until he was calm enough to look over to the passenger seat. Damian had his eyes closed, leaning with his head tilted to the side. “I like your voice,” he said softly. Pleasure surged through Jon but he didn’t sing anymore as he pulled into an almost empty parking lot and shut the truck off. “Where are we?” Damian asked. 

“The animal shelter,” he told him, laughing when a small panic washed over Damian’s face. “C’mon, let’s get you a cow.” 

There were animals in cages and partitioned behind fences. Damian walked in and felt oddly angry. Then the girl at the front desk greeted one of the dogs like he was an old friend and his anger faded. They walked around the small area. He let a few of the dogs sniff his hand as Jon talked to the girl.

“Oh my god. Damian look at how cute it is!” He turned from the giant dog staring at him. Jon was holding a black kitten out to him. He saw a real smile on Jon's face and stepped closer. He touched the kitten carefully. It tilted its head, rubbing against his fingers. “Do you want to hold her?” Jon asked. He shook his head, but kept petting the kitten. 

“We have a few other kittens,” the girl offered and brought out a deep red one. She didn't give him a chance to deny her as she pushed it into his hands. He held the kitten and stared down at it. It's gold eyes looked up at him and he felt his heart swell. 

“Damian?” he looked over to Jon. “Are you okay?” He nodded and pulled the kitten a little closer. It licked his nose and he let out a wet gasp. Jon made a noise, but the kitten licked his nose again and he couldn't focus on anything else. 

“Is that the one?” Jon asked after the kitten had rubbed himself all over his hand and licked him a few more times. He pulled it closer and nodded. Jon grinned. “We can look at a few more,” Jon offered. They didn't have any more kittens, but there were three full grown cats. Two were sleeping and he didn't want to disturb them. One was sitting with its feet pressed together in the corner of its cage like it was waiting for the door to open. He walked over while Jon gave treats to the kittens. 

“That's Alfred. He's an older cat, so not many people are interested in him.” 

“Did you say Alfred?” Jon asked. He looked back at the cat who almost seemed to raise an eyebrow at him. 

“He reminds me of Pennyworth,” Damian said. Jon snickered. He sat down in the gated off area and they let Alfred down. The cat sniffed at the kitten and looked at Damian for a few minutes before rubbing his body against his leg. He smiled up at Jon who had his phone out. “We can take them both right?” he asked. Jon looked at the girl who shrugged like it wasn't her decision. The kitten walked up his chest, tiny claws digging in through the thin fabric of his shirt. It nudged him and mewed. 

Thirty minutes later he was standing in the middle of an exam room with Alfred sitting primly next to him. the kitten walking across his lap, and the dog that had watched him earlier lazing at his feet. 

“Damian? Is everything okay?” His father asked as he answered the phone.

“Father, I require currency.”

“Uh, why?” his father asked. 

“I am rescuing Alfred and his friends. Alfred is old and if I don't adopt him now he will die here.” 

“Alfred?” his father asked. “Oh,” he said a second later. “Ask Jon if he has his card with him.” He did and his father said to let him know how much they needed. He pulled the kitten up and smiled at him. “You have a new home.” Jon carried Alfred's carrier and Titus’ leash. The kitten was tucked into the crook of Damian’s neck. 

“You know that you can change their names right?” Jon asked when they got in the car. “Most people do.” He looked at Alfred, but couldn't imagine him being anything else. And Titus already answered to his name. He looked at the kitten. “Goliath,” he said and glanced over to Jon. “This is Goliath.” 

“He's so small though,” Jon said. 

“He will get bigger. You name things for what they are going to become, not what they are. Or we would all be named Baby.” Jon stared at him. “He likes his name. Right?” he asked the kitten. Jon hummed. He looked over to him. Jon smiled at him before turning back to the road. 

“Titus!” Jon called when the dog darted out of the truck, knocking him down in the process. The dog raced around the yard barking at the birds in the trees. He grabbed Alfred’s carrier as he followed Jon. Lois walked out on the porch to see what all the noise was about. As soon as she stepped out the dog spun and ran for her. Jon missed grabbing the leash. Damian was expecting some horrible thing, but instead Lois laughed as Titus slobbered all over her face. He hugged Goliath a little closer and walked over. 

Jon was wiping off the knees of his jeans and complaining. “He didn't act like this at the shelter.” 

“He's just excited. You have a new family huh?” she said to Titus who licked up her face again. “You asked your dad right?” she asked Damian while ruffling the dog’s ears back and forth. 

“He sent me the money,” he said. Lois leaned down to look in the carrier. “This is Alfred and Goliath.” She sighed at the kitten. 

“Can I hold him?” she asked. The kitten mewed at her. He handed him over as they walked inside. Titus stayed close to Jon when they stepped in. 

“Did you get food for them?” she asked. 

“They gave us some. It's in the truck.” Lois was talking to Goliath as she walked into the kitchen, not paying any attention to her son. “We should go see if Titus knows any tricks,” Jon said. He set the carrier down after Jon and Titus had run outside and let Alfred out. The cat stepped out looked around the room before leaping onto a rocking chair in the corner and curling up on it. He smiled and ran out after Jon. 

Titus knew how to chase chickens. And sit. They spent most of the afternoon chasing Titus as he terrorized half of the animals on the farm. They didn't appear to be very bothered. Once Titus had given up on them, they went back to whatever they were doing like nothing had happened. 

When Lois called them in for dinner he was hungry, and actually a little tired. Goliath was curled up with Alfred, a tiny ball of fluff on the elder cat’s side. 

“What made you decide to get an animal?” Lois asked. He ate the rice quickly and looked over to Jon. 

“Originally I wanted a cow.” Lois laughed a little, but stifled it. “They needed a home. It feels nice to be that home.” 

“Well they are lucky to have you. I bet Titus will love the manor. All that open space.” Jon talked about the dog he'd had when he was younger before they came here. Lois looked a little sad, but smiled as Jon talked. Titus woofed from the living room. 

“Bruce said you guys were at the shelter. He didn't say you were bringing the whole thing home with you,” Clark said petting Titus who seemed ecstatic to see the man. 

“There were more there, I wish I could have helped them all.” 

Clark smiled. He pat Damian’s shoulder as he passed, giving Lois a kiss and rubbing Jon's head. “I'm sure you'll find a way.” Clark joined them, even though they were mostly done with the meal. He told them about his day, the minor battle the league had dealt with. Batman had ended the battle by disabling the alien's vessel with a virus, and nearly getting himself sucked into space in the process. 

“Grayson tells me that he does this often,” he remarked.

Clark chuckled, coughing a big as he did. “He does. But he knows what he's doing.” Damian looked over to Jon. He could see the worry on his face. Jason’s words echoed again and he frowned.

After dinner they took Titus out again. The dog had settled down and was trotting in front of them as they walked around the farm. 

“Todd told me that you had a crush on my father.” 

Jon stumbled, his feet stuttering to a stop. “What? No!” 

“You asked him to marry you. Grayson told me that,” he said with a frown. He didn't know why he was so bothered. He didn't want to know that Jon liked someone else. It didn’t matter who it was. He wanted Jon to like  _ him _ . “I know I look like my father. Even my own mother forgot I was not him at times.” 

“Ugh. No. I was a kid. I mean yeah, you look like him, but you look like you too. I like you.” Jon seemed eager to make him believe that. 

“I like you too,” he replied. 

And even though Jon was elated to hear him finally say that, a rock dropped into his gut to keep the balloon in him from taking off. “You know you don't have to like me, right?” he asked. He hated saying it as soon as it came out. 

Damian blinked at him. “What do you mean?” he demanded defensively, “do you not want me to like you?” 

“No! I do!” he told him. “More than anything- it's just that…”  _ I shouldn't.  _ “I don't want you to feel that just because we are bonded that you have to… be with me like that. I don't want to trap you when you finally got free.” He sounded like an idiot but he couldn't stop now that he had started. “There are like, millions of people in the world, and some of them are so great and you-" his face heated, “You are this amazing guy, and I’m not making any sense.” Jon groaned shoving his face into his palms, the memory of that morning coming back to him when he had made the same gesture for a different reason. “I'm just trying to say, that you don't  _ have _ to be with me just because I love you. And if you want to be with someone who can actually… like,  _ be with you. _ ” He wondered how much blood could go to his head before it exploded. “I...I’d understand.”

Titus ran into them, knocking Jon down again. Damian looked down at the boy feeling raw. He pulled the dog off of Jon and hooked the leash back on. 

“We should go back,” he said. He offered Jon a hand up, but he didn't take it. Instead he pushed himself up on his own. He let his hand fall back to his side, an ache in his chest chasing the action. They walked back to the farmhouse in silence. He felt his mood darkening as they got closer. 

“Damian,” Jon said when they walked in. Titus trotted off to sniff at Lois and Clark on the couch in the living room. 

“I'm going to take a shower,” he said keeping his eyes down. He glanced over to the couple on the couch. Lois met his eyes. He turned and headed upstairs. He took a deep breath and leaned against the door as he shut it. Once he was sure that he wasn’t going to scream in frustration he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He hesitated over the contact before hitting the call button. 

Dick answered the phone with a distracted, “Damian?” 

“Can you pick me up?” 

“What? Did something happen?” he could hear a scuffle in the background. 

“I want to be home,” he said softly. 

“I'll be there in a little bit, okay?” 

“Okay,” he mumbled. He hung up with Dick and started the shower. He let the water run over his shoulders and thought about what Jon had said. He didn't understand. He knew that he didn't have to like Jon. He just did. He had thought about how he felt for weeks, and Jon had practically dismissed the revelation he'd had. Jon had spent the entirety of the night before asking him what he wanted. He wanted Jon, but it hadn't mattered to him. Jon said he loved him but he didn't want Damian around. Jon didn't want him. When the cold water hit his back he turned off the shower. He took his time as he got dressed. He was confused and wasn't sure how Jon wanted him to act. 

When he got downstairs, Clark was sitting alone on the couch holding Goliath. The kitten looked even smaller in the man's hand where he was curled into a ball head resting on his thumb.

“Lois and Jon went to get ice cream.” Clark offered. “Are you okay? You seemed upset when you boys came inside.”

“I am fine,” he said avoiding the man's eyes. He knew that he would be able to sense the lie, but he couldn't tell him the truth. Jon was his son after all. 

Clark looked out the window as his phone chirped. “Is that the jet? Are you leaving?” 

“I thought it best to take them home.” He pet Alfred as he passed him on the recliner. He had an alert from Dick that he'd be there in five minutes. He put the rest of his things back in his bag. 

“They should be back soon. You could wait.” Clark offered as the lights of the jet flashed across the room as it landed in the field behind the barn.

He looked at Clark and saw when he realized that Damian was relieved that he didn't have to explain to Jon why he was leaving. “I’ll be back next weekend,” he offered instead of an explanation.

-

Dick didn't ask him what had happened. Once they were back to altitude he set the jet on autopilot and cooed over Goliath. 

“He's so much cuter than the pictures Jon sent,” Dick said. Titus plopped his head in his lap. He pet the dog as he watched Dick play with Goliath. The kitten batted at Dick’s fingers while he wiggled them above him. “You looked really happy in those pictures too.” 

“It was a good day. The animals were very sweet.” Titus leaned heavily against him.

“Why the early pick up if it was a good day?” 

“I told you, I wanted to be home.” 

Dick hummed and lifted Goliath up to kiss him. 

-

He knocked on the frame of his father's study. He'd spent most of the day sleeping. Running with Titus and the flight back to Gotham had drained him more than he'd expected. “Father?” 

The man looked up and waved him in. He still looked a little baffled by Damian calling him father. No one else did, instead they called him Bruce or B. He'd considered it, but it had felt wrong in his head. “Hey, how are you doing today?”

“I slept well,” Damian looked around the room briefly. The last time he'd been there he'd been angry and his mother had shown up. The room looked like nothing had ever been disturbed. The letter opener his father had used to stop his mother's attack sat on the desk, a small chip in the blade. “I would like your advice, Dick and Jason were… unhelpful.” His father grinned. He took that as an invitation to continue. “I am confused about Jon.” He sat down in the chair in front of the desk. 

“Give him time,” his father advised. 

Damian sighed. He knew that was coming. Dick had said the same thing when they'd gotten back before he had headed up to his room. Damian didn't even know how the man had known anything was wrong. “I have given him everything. I left my home, my family, my entire life for him. I do not know what more he wants from me.” He clenched his fists in his lap, refusing to let the emotion swirling in him show. 

“Damian, he doesn't want anything from you.” 

“He did!” He shouted, before catching himself. “He did before. I killed people.” He ignored his father's wince. “He did not care. He still wanted to be with me. But now, after I got caught, after I let my mother kill me… He does not.” He looked down at his hands before whispering what bothered him the most, “He said I am an amazing guy.” He looked up at his father. “But I do not see it. I know how people are meant to act, I have watched them. I know I do not act that way. And Jon, he is -” he paused looking for the right word. 

“Jon,” his father supplied. 

He nodded. There was no one word to describe the boy, he was everything. Everything good and light and everything that Damian was not. “He is not using his powers. He will not touch his mother. He does not want to touch me. I yelled at you for making him fear his powers. But I did this. I made him so afraid that he is tearing himself in half trying to suppress what is inside him.”

“No, you didn't.” He scoffed but his father continued. “I am the first one to blame myself when things go wrong, but this was not your doing. Jon has always been afraid of losing control. His father has the same fears. Though I suspect that Jon doesn't see that.” 

“He is his dad, his idol. He is everything that Jon aspires to be, and everything he thinks he is not,” Damian said. He'd watched Jon with his father too much not to know that. “And Jon will not listen to him.” 

“Clark will get through to him. Like I said, give him time. He's scared and hurting. But he'll get through it.” 

-

He texted Jon pictures of Goliath. Pennyworth had looked amused when he'd introduced him to Alfred. He'd even posed for a picture with the cat. Dick had printed it out and it sat framed next to other pictures of the family. He spent most of his time training Titus. He knew sit and come. He didn't jump on people, though Damian was sure that Dick was setting his training back by letting him jump all over him. He'd seen him lying on the ground in the yard with the dog slobbering over him too many times for it to be a coincidence. He knew on Wednesday night that he needed to see Jon. He had been out on his run with Titus. They were running the perimeter of the manor grounds, when he'd felt his energy drain. He'd made that run almost every day, and he'd never lost his breath like that. He walked most of the way back. The fever started at lunchtime on Thursday. He had promised to spar with Tim after, but they'd sent him to rest before he'd even hit the stairs to the cave. Resting did nothing, it only meant he was uncomfortable and hot in his bed instead. Sleep wouldn't help this any. 

Superman stopped by early Friday morning. Damian was up, trying to get Titus to shake when he landed a few feet from them. 

“Damian, is your father awake?” He looked back to the manor. 

“He most likely is now. Although they had a late patrol last night so there is a possibility he is still asleep. Should I go get my bag?” Clark nodded. He called Titus and the dog followed him inside. As he headed up to his room, he passed his father on the stairs. He was frowning, unhappy about his interrupted sleep, as he trudged past him. 

He hadn't unpacked most of the clothes from the last stay. Pennyworth had taken his dirty clothes and placed them back in the bag. He shoved his charger and grabbed a few more things before saying goodbye to Alfred and Goliath. Titus followed him back downstairs. 

“We'll figure it out,” his father was saying when he stepped back outside. “Do you have everything?” he nodded. He didn’t think that phrase would stop amusing him.

Clark looked at him for a moment. “We have a long way to go,” he said before picking him up under his knees and back. He frowned and his father smiled, clearly amused at the sight. 

“I think I understand why Diana is always laughing at me,” he offered. He felt the rumble of Clark's laugh before they lifted off and he was reminded of the roller coaster. 

“I'll drop him off before the meeting on Sunday,” Clark said. 

\---

Jon tried to ignore the tightness in his chest when he got back to the house and saw that Damian was gone. His dad told him that it was Bruce who pulled him back, but Jon knew better. He had put his foot in his mouth and blocked all logical thought from coming out when he needed to, and he had chased Damian all the way back to Gotham. 

He ate his ice cream quietly, pretending to watch whatever movie his dad had put on without a word. But really he watched his parents. His mom was curled into his dad’s side, his arm around her shoulders easily like he didn't have to think about it at all. They teased each other, laughing and swaying. He didn't know how that was possible. He never would have thought twice about it before, but now, after everything- he didn't know how you were supposed to go back to playing human. At one point his dad pinched his mom’s cheek and in a panic Jon shot out of his seat to stop him. Two sets of concerned eyes stared at him as he tried and failed to play it off like he needed to go to the bathroom. 

They didn't talk about it when he came back, but the playful manner was gone. When the finished they went to bed without a word. 

-

His dad was gone in the morning. His mom was in the kitchen rolling out a sticky dough with a wine bottle as a rolling pin. She had left her good rolling pin at the Metropolis apartments over the holidays and no matter how many times his father offered to go and grab it for her, she insisted that it wasn’t necessary. If he ran off for every little thing then it would spoil her and Jon, and that was the last thing that she wanted. 

Jon stood in the doorway longer than he meant to, taking a minute to clench his fists and hold his breath- like for some reason holding his breath would make him less alien. But Lois felt him standing there and eventually turned to smile and nod him into the room. “There you are,” she said like she had been waiting for hours. “Come help me with this dough, I need stronger hands.” 

He felt some of the tension drain as she stepped a little to the side, giving him his space. And for the first time a ping of guilt hit him as he realised that his distance hadn’t gone unnoticed. She didn't mention it. She pushed the bowl of dough over to him as he pushed his sleeves up and kneaded it softly. She grabbed the cream cheese from the fridge and a beater, whisking sugar into it for a minute or two as they silently went about their tasks. Jon was actually starting to feel relaxed when his mom said, “So your father told me about the talk you had yesterday.” 

His face heated and dough squeezed through his fingers as he swallowed past his embarrassment. “Y-yeah?” he asked trying to seem casual. 

“He said that you were afraid of being intimate with Damian.” He watched her carefully but she didn’t look away from the icing that she was making. “Grab the brown sugar for me?” she asked and he jumped at the opportunity to get away from her. His face was a little less red when he got back and she picked up right where she left off. “I don’t like the idea of you having sex, but I also know that you are about to be seventeen and that it’s going to happen eventually. And sex is scary enough on it’s own before you add everything that is special about you to it.” She looked at him then, her eyes soft as she peered up at him, “You are a very special boy, Jon. You don’t have to be intimate if you don’t want to. But you don’t have to be afraid if you do. When you are with someone that way, everything is so hyper focused that you can focus on more, and be aware of so many things at once.” 

Jon swallowed hard, “But what if I… hurt him?” 

“Then you stop and take some time. Apologize and take care of him.” his mom told him easily, “And when you are ready, you try again.” 

She made it sound like it was so easy, “But how do I know if he wants to?” Jon asked. “How can you be sure that someone likes you, like, really?” 

Lois fixed her son with a stern look and put her hands on her hips. “Tell me what that boy has ever done to show you otherwise,” she told him. They watched each other as a moment passed and nothing came to his head. Lois sighed and grabbed his shoulders, sliding her hands down to his elbows. “Jon, when a man likes you, they can’t always say it. But when it is important they show you in the things that they do, the way they handle themselves and how they treat you. Damian cares for you very deeply. He might even love you, whether he knows that or not, and he needs you to be the one to take that step forward. Be strong for him. Because he is a good man, and if you don’t someone else will one day.” 

She went back to the dough, making a cinnamon-sugar-butter concoction to sprinkle across it before she started to roll it up. Jon knew she was right. He had told Damian that yesterday as they were walking. He wanted him to be happy whatever that meant. But if he was telling Damian that he could want anything, then shouldn’t Jon be allowed to want too? 

Tuesday and Wednesday passed quickly. Jon spent the majority of both days writing a research essay that felt like he was pulling his teeth out. His dad thought it was funny how both he and Lois could be writers and Jon could resent it to much- but he kept it mostly to himself as he helped his son through it. He woke up hot on Thursday, the burn of his fever setting in once more as he walked downstairs to where his mom flipping the waffle iron. He walked up behind her, feeling horrible and sad and wrapped his arms around her, sinking his face into her shoulder. She jumped a little, a hand grabbing his as she turned around and put a hand on his cheek. She flipped it to the back on her hand and frown at him. “Oh, baby you are burning up,” she muttered. 

Jon nodded and tucked his head back into her shoulder again. “I don’t feel good,” he admitted as the flair in his chest heated up again. 

She rubbed his back. “I think you should stay home today,” she told him. “I’ll call the office and work satellite. I can make you Gram’s soup?” she pulled back to look at him and he nodded again. 

He spent the rest of the day on the couch, his feet curled into his mom’s lap as they watched an old TV show about space scientists that he didn’t really understand at all. He drifted in and out of sleep, woken occasionally by the buzz of his phone as Damian sent him pictures of his new pets doing cute things. His dad brought Pizza when he came home that night and they ate on the livingroom floor. Jon was still wrapped in a blanket feeling horrible, but also better than he had in weeks. 

-

Damian was in the kitchen when he woke up the next morning. He could hear him talking to his mom through the floor and reminded himself to thank her from keeping his dad from sending Damian up to wake him. He took an extra minute to get dressed, fishing out his least ripped pair of jeans and a Smallville High shirt that was almost too tight since his shoulders kept expanding. He brushed his teeth and his hair, and tried to get it to fall like his dad’s but it stayed it’s too long mess no matter what he did. When he was convinced that he looked as good as it was going to get he took a deep breath and forced himself to go at a normal pace down the stairs. His heart thumped when Damian turned back to catch a glimpse of him, eyes widening a bit. 

“Good Morning,” he said cheerfully to the room. Before he could talk himself out of it he stopped to kiss Damian on the cheek and pulled out the chair next to him. Damian flushed and his dad’s eyes widened a little as he pushed on with whatever conversation they had been having before. Lois set a hot mug of tea in front of him and winked as she kissed him on the forehead and went back to cooking. Breakfast was easy and after the boys helped Clark with the morning chores before he shooed them off. 

Damian kept his hands in his pockets as they walked back to the house and Jon had to remind himself that he was the one who had pushed him away. A small part of him was relieved, relieved that at least Damia understood that Jon just couldn’t. Not right now. But he needed to get past the tension. He needed to try, to show Damian that he was willing to try. “My friend Kathy says they are showing Jaws at the drive in tonight,” he told him. 

“Drive in?” Damian asked, staring at the ground. 

“It’s like a movie theater, but outside,” Jon explained. “Everyone parks their car and they watch the movie there. It’s like a private movie… just with half of the town there.” 

Damian looked up at him with a spark of something in his eyes that Jon hadn’t seen in a while. “You are aware, that makes no sense, yes?” he asked. 

Jon grinned and shrugged. “Not important,” he brushed it off. “Ya wanna go?” 

-

The lot was mostly empty when they got there thirty minutes early, but it started to fill up quickly. Damian waited patiently for Jon to set up the bed of his truck in the perfect array of pillows and blankets that he had stolen from the linen closet before he let him climb in. Jon left him there to grab drinks, popcorn, and some sour candy. By the time that he got back, Kathy was leaning against the tailgate, grinning at Damian who looked very concerned. “Okay, you said he was hot, but you didn’t say he was  _ this _ hot,” she told Jon, punching his arm. “How do you not accidently laser beam him all the time?” she demanded climbing into the truck bed next to him. 

Damian was alert and concerned in an instant. “You mean, you-” 

“She saw me set a tree on fire when I was ten.” Jon explained as he passed Damian the popcorn and their root beer as he handed Kathy her small pepsi and milk duds.

“Never told a soul.” She shrugged taking a fist full of popcorn and picking out pieces one by one. “So Jon said you are from Gotham?” 

They talked until the movie started. Jon had warned Kathy in advance to take it easy on Damian. He didn’t want to scare him away with her trying to pry too far into his past- but it was important to him that Damian met her. Jon wanted him to know that he wanted Damian to meet his best friend. Jon wanted him to see that he was willing to make the effort to understand him deeper and carve out a bit of his life for him. So Kathy kept it light. She told Damian how she and Jon had met and the few stupid things they had done while growing up. She asked about his dad- Jon had told her that his mom was off limits- and tried to get him to admit that he liked Smallville better than Gotham until the sun set and the trailers started. 

They sat arm to arm while the first bit played. The touch was more of a comfort than he ever could have imagined before. Damian whispered questions at him through most of it, asking why the town wouldn’t ban people from swimming sooner and how no one had managed to simply kill the shark. He curled into Jon’s side as the tension of the final scene grew though, and Jon very carefully wrapped his arm over his shoulders like he had seen his parents do the week before careful not to squeeze him as he jumped. 

-

The weekend went by too fast and before he knew it Damian was packing up his bag again as his dad got suited up to go to the League meeting. He leaned against the framed of the doorway, arms crossed as he watched him carefully folding his clothes. He was talking about something mindless. Small complaints about the squeakiness of the bed and wondering if ‘Pennyworth’ had been going over his daily routine with Titus when Jon found the courage to say what had been on his mind since he’d talked to his mom on Monday. “Hey, D?” Damian stopped talking and raised an eyebrow at him. 

He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his head his mom’s voice coming back to him.  _ Apologize and take care of him _ . Right. “I… I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings,” he told him. “Last week when I said… you know.” He watched Damian, hating the way that his shoulders sank down a little. “What I wanted to say didn’t come out right. And I don’t want you to think that I don’t want to be with you, because I do. You’re, like, the best thing. Ever.” He flushed and let out a small nervous laugh. “I’m just sorry. And I’m going to try really hard, okay? Please be patient with me.”

“Try really hard?” Damian asked. Jon looked startled. “What do you mean?” 

“Oh, um. To not hurt you, and to be what you need me to be.” 

He frowned and crossed the room. Jon's eyes dropped from his before darting up and back down. He touched his cheek, Jon was a few inches taller than him now. “I don't need you to be anything. I only want you to be you.” Jon's eyes met his. “You're my soulmate.” He couldn't hide the teasing smile. Jon huffed out a laugh. 

“We're soul  _ bonded _ ,” Jon corrected and touched his fingers. 

“That's what I said,” he replied gripping Jon's hand. Jon smiled that brilliant blinding smile that Damian was pretty sure he loved. He hadn't seen that smile for too long. 

“Ahem, we're going to be late.” Jon's hand dropped from his. He nodded at Clark. 

“I'll see you next week,” he said. Jon was still smiling at him, though it had dimmed at the knowledge that they weren't going to see each other for a few days. Clark walked out of the room when Jon stepped toward him. He smiled into the soft kiss Jon offered. 

-

The week passed quickly. He trained with the family, though he was beginning to wonder why they were letting him join. He wanted to ask, but he didn't want to get his hopes up that he might be able to go on patrol with them one day. That they wanted him to join them. He watched them fight for the city from his chair next to Stephanie in the cave and wanted to help. He felt a need to right the wrongs that he'd done. To atone for all the pain he'd caused. He didn't know how to ask for that and didn't want to hear his father tell him no. He'd just started feeling like he fit here, in this family. He wasn’t ready to lose it.

When he was back on the farm, the Kents taught him how to play monopoly. They spent most of Saturday afternoon playing. He laughed as the Superman begged his wife for money when the man landed on Jon's property and his son cackled with a mischievous glee. Damian traded the money Clark needed for the last railroad he needed to complete the set. On Clark's next turn he landed on the railroad he had traded Damian and the table had shaken from the joy of the other three as Clark stared in despair. Jon won. He absorbed his father's property two turns later when the man landed on Jon's hotel. Their game didn’t last much longer when Clark excused himself to answer a call. Jon joined him on his creaky pull out mattress for a movie. Neither of them stayed awake for the end. In the morning Lois was standing over them with a frown on her face, but amusement in her eyes. He glanced down to see Jon starfished across the mattress as he drooled into the pillow next to his shoulder. His heart felt strange as he looked at him. 

“Jon,” Lois called. The boy groaned and burrowed against Damian. “Jonathan,” she said a little louder. Jon opened a single eye and looked up at his mom then glanced over to Damian who was still watching him. He jolted up a second later. “Your father is on his way home. Maybe it's time to go get dressed.” She raised an eyebrow at her son who nodded and ran up the stairs. “So, I just wanted to give you some advice.” Damian sat up at the serious tone her voice had taken. “If you ever hurt him on purpose I will find you. I traveled dimensions, I can find you on this earth no matter where you run.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he squeaked. 

“I’m not fond of the idea of my baby having sex, but I wanted to talk to you about it. You know he’s strong. I knows he’s worried about hurting you, but even when they lose control, he’ll be so focused on you that he won't hurt you. I don't know how to get him to believe that, but I need you to know... he won't.” Lois pat him on the shoulder. “He'll probably break a lot of your stuff though. I went through so many beds when Clark and I started dating.” She looked into the distance with a smile and whispered “so many” as she walked out of the room. He stared after her in shock. 

Jon came down and he was still staring where Lois had gone. “You okay?” 

He nodded and got ready while Jon started on his chores. He joined him and they got the rest of the list done by the time Clark got home. 

-

Jason grumbled to himself. He’d been grumpy all day, and it didn’t look like it was getting any better. Pennyworth had dropped off a cup of tea an hour ago, but Jason had spent the following half hour staring at it. 

“What's your issue?” Tim asked as he flipped through the movie choices on the screen.

“Pterosaurs,” Jason snapped. Tim frowned and Jason continued. “They can fly. And just snatch you off the ground and then you're dead.” 

“Does that mean you're afraid of Superman?” Dick asked, feet up on the back of the chair he was laying in. He had tried to get Jason to laugh, but had gotten yelled at for his troubles. 

“If he suddenly started eating people, yes. I'd be scared of him.” He looked eager to convince them of that. “Don't even get me started on those big fuckers. Thirty foot behemoths that should fly but  _ don't.” _ Damian wasn't sure how his latest rambling had started. They'd been talking about what movie they were going to show him next when Tim had said something and Jason had started babbling about flying killing machines. 

“I do not believe Master Kent will be start eating people, but if you keep him and his family waiting for much longer he might,” Pennyworth announced from the door. Dick's feet hit the ground hard and he sheepishly avoided the butler’s gaze. 

“Jon's here?” he asked. He ignored Jason and Tim as they mocked him. He ran down the stairs and skid to a stop in the dining room doorway. His father was talking with the Kents. Jon looked up and smiled at him. 

They all settled at the table. He had rushed to sit next to Jon when they all started choosing seats. Tim immediately asked Clark if he ever craved human flesh. The man, obviously used to the family, pondered the question for a moment. “I don't believe so.”

“Well let us know if you ever do so we can prepare Jason.”

“Bruce literally swoops down and terrifies criminals into behaving. How are you giving me shit for being afraid of something that could murder me while I walked down the street?” Jason griped.

“Dinosaurs are dead. That's how,” Tim replied. 

“They are going to show me a movie about a theme park tonight. Dick said there weren't any roller coasters though,” Damian told Jon. 

“Only the first one,” Stephanie said. “Tim's afraid of the Nokia ringtone from the third.” She smiled at the betrayed look her husband shot her. 

“A phone? What is a phone going to do to you?” Jason asked. 

“I'm not afraid of the phone!” Tim shouted. He listened to them continue to bicker for a moment. 

“Why didn't you tell me you were coming?” Damian asked.

“I didn't know. My dad just said we were going out to dinner and we ended up here. Oh, Kathy asked if we wanted to go roller skating on Friday night. I didn't know if you knew how.” 

“I don't, but you could teach me. I'm a quick learner.” 

“Oh my god! Tim shut up about the fucking phone,” Stephanie ground out. Everyone turned to look at the woman. 

Clark stood, his chair crashing to the ground. “Her water just broke,” he said. Tim stood, his eyes growing huge. Damian looked around the table, everyone was in shock. His father was staring at Stephanie, frozen. He looked over and saw Jason was watching the table like he was, only he was laughing at everyone’s expressions. 

“Tim,” Lois shook his shoulder. “Get it together. Go get your bag.”

“Bag, yeah,” he said. Dick chased after him. 

“I can fly,” Clark blurted. “I can fly her there.” 

Lois rolled her eyes and mumbled something that sounded like ‘my husband is useless’ as she helped Stephanie to her feet. “Probably best if we use the car, honey. How about you and Bruce go make sure the car is ready?” Pennyworth rushed into the room and helped Lois guide Stephanie down the hall. “Jon, sweetie. We'll see you at the hospital okay?” He glanced over to see Jon nodding vigorously. Jason stood. 

Tim ran past them with a bag strung over his shoulder. Dick stopped and looked over to them. “We're going to be uncles,” he told Jason. 

“One of us will be. Grandpa,” Jason poked at Dick who paled. 

“Where's Bruce?” 

“Father went with them. They said to meet us at the hospital.” 

-

Jon held his hand between the chairs of the waiting room. Jason and Dick had left at nightfall, saying something about patrol. When Clark had asked if they were sure, Dick had told him that his father would worry if someone wasn't looking after the city, and he needed to be with them. They’d come back a few hours later both looking like they’d shed some of their nerves. Sunrise brought Tim in a green paper gown stepping into the waiting room. He looked tired, but happy. The family stood in anticipation. 

“I'm a dad,” he said. Dick was the first to him and wrapped him up in a hug. Jason joined them not long after. Damian just watched them, Jon's hand in his. 

“The doctor said we can't have visitors yet, but B said he'd call if you wanted to go home, get some sleep for us,” Tim said after hugging them all. The drive home was quiet. Alfred showed Lois and Clark to a room. Jon followed Damian to his. The same one he'd been given that first day. 

“I can't believe that they're parents,” Jon said quietly, like it would break whatever dream world they were in. 

“They will be great,” he said joining Jon on the bed. “Have you ever thought about being a father?” 

Jon shrugged.“Not seriously, I'm still in school. You know?” Jon rolled into his side to look at him. “You? Do you want kids?” 

“I do not know. What kind of father would I be?” Jon scooted closer and carefully draped his arm over him in an awkward hug. He put his hand over Jon's. He listened to the rhythm of Jon's breath until he was sure that he'd fallen asleep. He turned and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. 

-

It felt like Jon's parents were waking them up as soon as he had fallen asleep. They asked Jon questions, he blinked but he was tired and couldn't focus on what they were saying. When Jon curled back into his side, he drifted off easily. 

It was the early afternoon before he woke again. He was warm, Jon on one side and Titus on the other. The dog knew he wasn't supposed to be on the bed, but he had yet to listen. Damian woke up every morning with him snoring next to him. He ordered him off. Titus looked at him for a moment, disgruntled that he was being disturbed, before trotting out of the room. 

“My parents said they'd pick me up after they got off work,” Jon yawned, stretching as he sat up. 

They went by the hospital to meet the babies. He watched his father holding one of the infants and was irrationally angry with his mother. He'd never seen him look so at peace. He should have gotten this moment with him. Dick seemed as touched by the moment, he had tears in his eyes and told Jason to shut up when the man asked if he was crying. Stephanie was tired, but she looked as happy as Tim had that morning. 

“Strong like his mother,” he said when Stephanie showed him her other son. The tiny hand squeezed his finger. She chuckled and looked down at her son. 

Dick dragged his father out when the nurse frowned at them long enough that they got the message that they should leave. He talked for most of the drive home about the babies and their parents. Dick looked almost sad as he gazed openly at Bruce from the passenger seat. Jon's fingers were laced in his. He wondered if Jon even noticed. He hadn't hesitated at all about touching him since dinner had been interrupted. 

They weren't home for long before Jon's parents arrived. They stayed for dinner, a little more subdued than the one the night before. He listened to Clark and Lois tell stories about Jon when he was a baby. Jon had his face buried in his hands. Damian was nudging Jon when he saw his father squeeze Dick's hand. Dick had the same look he'd had in the car. Jon begged them to stop. Jason changed the topic easily, drawing the reporters into a discussion about something he'd read in the paper. 

\---

Jon sat in the back of his mom’s car, listening to his parents talk about Tim and Stephanie and the twins as they drove up to the Metropolis apartment. School had just gotten out and they didn’t see the need to go all the way back to Smallville tonight, having called Kathy’s uncle to check on the animals in the morning. The doorman smiled at them as they made their way into the building, making a comment about how tall Jon had gotten in the few months since they had been there. He smiled politely and tried to be normal. So much had changed in the last few months and things would keep getting weirder, his seventeenth birthday was coming up a few weeks and his dad told him that was when he had really started growing into his powers. 

His dad was chatty in the elevator, talking about how nice it was to see Bruce with a kid and wondering if he would ever get around to trying to have one. He stopped when he remembered his son was with them. “I know Dick and B are together.” He told them when his dad looked bashful. “Damian told me. I think they are kind of perfect.” he shrugged. 

Clark grinned at that and threw an arm over his shoulder, “Yeah, me too kid,” he said as the doors opened and he lead his family to the apartment at the end of the hall. 

Jon shifted awkwardly on his feet as his dad unlocked the door and he followed his parents in. “What do you boys want to do tonight?” his mom asked cheerfully. “Movie night? We can play that board game Dick got us for Christmas.” 

“Actually,” Jon cleared his throat, “Do you think I could talk to Pa for a minute?” he asked. 

His mom blinked as he pushed his lips hard together. “Of course,” she said easily. “I’ll go make some tea. Coffee, honey?” she asked his dad. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied and waited for her to leave the room before he took a seat on the couch. He waited for Jon to sit next to him, “Everything okay, Jon?” he asked. 

Jon nodded, “Yeah, Pa. I’m okay.” He swallowed. “It’s just that… well, I think I’m ready for that talk now.” 

It took his father a moment to understand exactly what he was saying, but it clicked before he had a chance to ask and force Jon to embarrass himself further. “Oh.” He nodded, Jon watched the shadow of his head on the floor as it moved unable to make actual eye contact. “Well, okay,” he said after another minute of silence passed and he squeezed his son’s shoulder, pulling his eyes up to see he was smiling at him. “Let’s talk about it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A Look Behind The Scenes Of Chapter Six**
> 
>  
> 
> Prubbs here, just wanted to have full disclosure. I was reading Twilight when we wrote this chapter- so if Jon feels very Edwardy that might be why. But before you give me shit, reading that did give me this fucking gem;
> 
> _“Because!” Jon hissed on his feet again, so close that he could reach out and touch him. “Because you are breakable and I am not."_
> 
> I have no regrets.
> 
>  
> 
> Also! We love y'all so much. You have been the best and most supportive readers in the world. This story is almost over (Just one chapter left!)- but if you like Jay/Tim, we just started posting a new fic called [ Bite Your Tongue ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15987014) that comes out every Tuesday. You should totally check out! 
> 
> Thank you for your time, and we'll see you next week!
> 
> _-Prubbs_


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

 

They spent the rest of the week in Metropolis since it was closer to work for his parents. The overall atmosphere between them better than it had been in weeks. Jon felt better. He was still worried. He hesitated when he helped his mother with things, but he didn’t let it stop him from doing them. And it felt good to know that both of his parents trusted him, no matter what had happened. But one thing was still bothering him. “Ma?” he asked helping her with the dishes as his dad combed through late night shows. They were leaving in the morning, swinging through Gotham to pick up Damian. 

She hummed not looking up at him and he hoped his dad wasn't listening in. “Why doesn't dad want me in Gotham?” he asked. “Is it because of… what I did? Is that why dad and B don’t talk anymore?”

“Oh, honey no.” she frown at him abandoning her plate. “Your father thought it might be hard for you after the event. That being home was best…” she trailed off looking at the back of the couch, his dad was scrolling through his phone seemingly unaware. “Honestly I think it's harder for your father,” she admitted. 

“Why?” Jon asked, pulling his eyebrows together. 

She smiled sadly and pat him lightly on his cheek, “This might be hard to explain,” she started. “But your dad blames himself for what happened to you.” 

He shook his head. “That doesn't make any sense.” He said. “He wasn't even there.”

Lois nodded. “That's exactly what bothers him honey. He wasn't there. Deep down I think he knows there is nothing he could have done in that particular situation, but he's your father. You are his responsibility and he wasn't there when you lost control. It makes him feel helpless and he is embarrassed that he wasn't there when you and Bruce needed him. That's why they aren't talking. It's not about you honey. It's about your dad feeling like Bruce is a better father than he is.”

Jon thought about that all night. He stared at his ceiling and thought about the way his dad had acted around Bruce since the attack. It bothered him. All night and into the morning when he brought a bag with him down to the car. “You going somewhere?” his dad asked with a laugh. They had enough of his stuff at both places to where he never really had to take a bag between them. 

“I think I should stay in Gotham this week,” he told him. Clark stiffened instantly. 

“Jon-" he started but his son held up a hand to stop him. 

“Pa,” Jon sighed heavily but couldn't think of exactly he wanted to say. He hugged him hard, harder than he would anyone else. It felt like he was flexing a muscle he hadn't been able to reach in a long time. “You are the best dad. I love you. And I'm okay,” he said into his shoulder. 

Clark let him say that he was okay a couple more times before he held him back. It wasn't quite as hard as Jon held him but his dad's voice was husky when he pulled away. “Go grab your mom? I need to call Bruce.”  Jon nodded and gave his dad the moment he needed.

-

Damian was surprised when Jon brought his bag in, setting it by the door, their dad's still talking in the driveway. “You are staying?” he asked as Bruce came in behind him and shut the door. 

“Jon is staying,” he confirmed and gave Jon a hard squeeze on the shoulder before he passed Alfred on the way to the kitchen. 

“I will have your room prepared for you, young Master Jonathan,” Alfred said too formally as he took his bag. But he smiled as he passed Jon. “Nice to have you back, sir,” he said softly and took his bag up the stairs.

Damian watched them leave before he turned back to Jon looking confused. “Why are you here?” he asked. “What about roller skating?”

Jon shrugged, not really wanting to get to get into the reasons. It felt too personal and weirdly like he'd be embarrassing his dad. “I'll find a rink here. And besides, I missed Titus,” he said instead. Jon grinned at him before grabbing his arm to drag him out to the grounds. “Have you taught him to roll over yet?”

-

Dick looked delighted watching Jon plant his feet in front of Damian’s while trying to get him off the bench without him rolling off. Damian had insisted on relacing the skates five times before he would even let Jon try to help him. The wary look hadn't left his face. There was hardly anyone in the rink, but for some reason that made it so much worse to Damian. They hadn't had any inline blades in his size. Dick spent most of the time at the counter teasing Damian about child’s skates before Jon shooed him into the rink, where he was now leaning over the half wall.

“This is pointless,” Damian gritted out through his teeth. He slipped back onto the bench completely red faced. 

Jon threw a look at Dick that told him to take a lap and he complied only laughing a little. “You haven't even tried it yet,” he complained. He held his hand back out again as he scooted closer on his own skates. 

“I did,” Damian objected. 

“You didn’t.” Jon laughed and he might have put a little more strength than he meant to to pull Damian up. Damian blinked at that. Jon raised an eyebrow daring him to say anything else before he pulled him into the wooden floor. He skated backwards, keeping Damian’s hand in his own as he rolled along. Damian was looking down at the wheels strapped to his feet like he didn't trust them. They went a full lap slowly before Jon let go of his hands and Damian threw him a look of panic. “You're fine,” Jon promised. “You are already doing it!” 

Damian stumbled along a few feet before he was able to stand a little straighter and move his feet forward. And then be beamed at Jon like he was the best thing in the world. He moved to stand beside him instead of in front of him, taking his hand easily as they made slow and steady laps around the rink. Dick popped in a few times as he went by, showing of with little flourishes that made Damian furious. Jon was trying to show him how to skate backwards when Dick finally told them that Alfred was making dinner and they needed to head back. 

“I just thought you would have been better at it,” Dick teased Damian, poking him in the side. “Being a ninja and all, shouldn’t you be lighter on your feet.” 

“I am not a ninja.” Damian sighed every syllable giving Jon's hand a squeeze to tell him silently that the ninja business was entirely his fault. “And I am sure the first time that you strapped into wheeled shoes, you were not exactly thrilled. There is no way to stop!”

“They have brakes on the toe.”

“No. They have a rubber circle. It does not stop you. It trips you,” Damian hissed. 

“Not if you do it backwards,” Dick grinned. 

Damian said something else but Jon stopped paying attention. He could hear shouting from far away. It sounded like it was coming from up high. He stopped. The others stopped with him and fixed him with a weird look. “What is wrong?” Damian asked when Jon heard a snap and looked up. 

They had been walking through a construction zone. The crane above their heads had been holding several tons of metal beams that were now plummeting towards them and a few dozen scattered people around them. There was no time to move. Dick ran forward throwing himself over Damian as Jon braced himself and pushed his hands up as it hit. A jolt went through his entire body as the sidewalk under his feet cracked. He bit down hard enough on his lip to make it bleed. His shoulders shook with the effort it took to keep the beams above his head. Damian and Dick blinked at him. Damian reached out like he wanted to help, but he couldn't. “You have to move,” Jon told them. His arms felt weak with the lack of practice. “I haven't used this in awhile, I don't know how long…” he grunted and Dick nodded pulling Damian away from him. The other people were clearing the area except a little girl who was too scared to move. Dick ran to her, pulling her out from the path of the metal before nodding to Jon. He pushed them over and they dropped to the ground next to him.

He fell hard to his knees but Dick didn't let him stay there. He and Damian ran up to his side and pulled him to his feet. “We have to go before the cops come,” Dick hissed and pulled them into the alley 

-

His dad was already at the manor when they got there. He was dressed in his suit and looked like he had run a mile. He hugged Jon hard as soon as they got in the door and demanded to know exactly what happened. “Did anyone see you?” he asked after Dick finished recounting everything. 

“I don't think so,” Dick answered looking back at Jon. “Most of the people around were running away. But who knows if anyone got a good photo.”

“We will know by the morning how bad the damage is.” Bruce stepped in, away from the wall that he had been leaning on. “You could stay until then if you'd like,” he offered Clark. 

Clark shook his head. “No, I'd better go talk to Lois. It won't be long before this gets back to her.”

Bruce smirked and pat him on the shoulder. “Good luck,” he offered. He walked Clark down to the cave with Dick so he could use the private exit.

Damian pulled Jon into the sitting room as soon as they left. He sat Jon down on the couch as he kneeled in front of him. Damian took Jon's hands in his and searched his face thoroughly before he asked, “Are you okay?” He looked so serious that a little bloom of warmth spread through Jon’s chest. “It hurt you when you caught it. It felt like…” 

Jon cut him off with a kiss. Damian blinked at him when Jon let go of the back of his head. “I wasn't ready for it,” he said softly. “But if I didn't catch it, all those people would have-" 

And then Damian cut him off, but his kiss was much harder. He leaned into it. His had fisted into Jon’s hair at the base of his neck. Damian climbed into Jon's lap, surprising both of them a little. He pulled Jon's hair so that he was forced to look up at him. “You saved my life,” he said sounding like he didn't like it. “That is twice that I am indebted to you.” His voice was soft and raspy. If it wasn't for the red tinge of his cheeks, Jon would have sworn he had done this several times before. 

Jon licked his lips, feeling dry and buzzing from the kiss they shared. “I’ll always save you. I love you,” he said like it was the easiest thing in the world. And maybe it was. When Damian kissed him again, it was more heated, and slower. Each movement calculated and precise as they tested the limits of one another. He opened his mouth to Damian, the copper taste of blood still lingering on his tongue from where he'd bit his lip earlier. If it bothered him, Damian kept it to himself as he caressed the inside of his cheek and sucked on his bottom lip. 

Jon's entire body felt hot. He was always hot. But now he felt like he was radiating energy through his palms as he ran them up Damian’s legs to his torso. He hesitated as he passed his butt, but Damian’s hand clamped over his wrist and kept it there. Heat spiked lower. Before he could really think about it, he grabbed Damian by the hips and pulled him up turning so that his back was on the couch and Jon was leaning over him. Jon took a second to take in his soulmate’s surprise before he was kissing him again, his lips, his neck, his jaw, anywhere that he could reach as his hips ground against Damian’s. A gasp of pleasure spiked out of him before he could clamp it down. Damian lifted the hem of his shirt when the knock at the door startled Jon back across the couch. The door opened to Alfred watching them try to look like they hadn't just been caught.

“Dinner is ready, young masters,” Alfred told them before he discreetly left the room.

Damian sighed. When he looked back at Jon, there was a heat in his eyes that sent a shiver down his spine. “We should go wash up,” Damian said.

Jon moved to follow him but flushed bright red when the strain in his pants had him sitting back down. “I uh, need a minute,” he muttered, refusing to answer when Damian asked him why. 

\---

Damian’s cheeks were stained bright red. He splashed more water on his face, but they weren't calming. He sighed and hoped that the others wouldn't notice. Stephanie and the babies were coming home, that was sure to distract them. 

It didn't. 

Apparently they'd gotten home hours ago and were all trying to catch up on their sleep. So, the moment he walked in the room Jason wolf-whistled. He shot him a glare that had the man laughing. Dick was focusing on straightening the silverware in front of him, but he could see the smile on his face. He huffed and sat down. 

“Leave Jon alone,” Damian growled. He looked at Jason until the man nodded. Dick didn't look up from his work, but he took that as agreement. Jon walked in behind his father. He was smiling, but it was stiff. He looked uncomfortable even as he slipped into the chair next to Damian. Jon gave him a shy smile. When he looked up Jason had a pained look on his face as he rubbed beneath the table and Dick was frowning at him. He smiled his thanks at Dick who shrugged it off. 

-

Jason was laughing. Damian hit him with his staff. It didn't stop the laughter. He grunted and kept laughing. He crossed his arms and frowned at the man until his laughter slowed.

“Why are you asking  _ me _ ?” Jason finally managed. 

“I cannot ask Jon since it is about him. Tim and Stephanie are busy. I will  _ not _ ask Dick. I do not want to know about the sex he has with my father.” He made a face and Jason shuddered before chuckling. 

“Yeah. He's a sharer. I don't know if any advice I give you is going to be any good. I'm not the best with people.” He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah. You are worse. We don't need to rehash that argument.” He grinned and Jason picked up the staffs he'd dropped. “So what do you want to know?” 

“I don't know,” he mumbled blocking the swipes Jason sent his way. 

“Well what have you done?” Jason asked looking slightly pained. He felt heat rise in his face when he remembered the night before. 

“We've kissed,” he grumbled. Jason laughed, Damian slipped a shot in on his ribs in retaliation. 

“Stop that,” Jason whined. He still hadn't figured out how he was getting past his defense to land those jabs. “You've-” Jason made a gesture and then laughed at the fact that he was holding a staff while doing it. Damian gave him a flat look. “You have though right?” Jason asked when he was done laughing at his own joke. 

“Yes,” he replied. 

“Do that to him,” Jason said with a shrug. “Someone else's hand feels pretty great.” 

“But that's not-” 

“Baby steps little D. You shouldn't rush this.” Jason smirked then rushed him. They sparred in silence for a while until Jason motioned for a break and they stopped. “Definitely shouldn't rush shoving a Kryptonian up your-” Jason hit his ass with the staff as Damian stepped away to catch his breath. “Take your time with that.” 

“What?” he whispered. “Why did you say it like that?” Jason looked at him and he must have looked terrified because his face changed and he stepped forward. He let Jason tug him under his arm. 

“Don't worry. Little Blue is young I'm sure it's not  _ too _ big.” He frowned. He knew Jason was messing with him, but he hadn't really thought about that. He hadn't thought about any of it if he was honest. He hadn't really wanted to have sex before he'd met Jon. But he did now. 

-

Dick dragged them all into the den for a movie. He sat next to Jon and ignored the faces Jason was making at him. The lights went down as the movie started. He didn't take in any of the movie. Instead his focus was stuck on Jon's hand in his and the line of heat against his side from shoulder to knee. Jon rested his head on his shoulder toward the end of the movie. He could still smell traces of his shampoo. 

Jon laughed, he looked up to the screen. But he didn't know what was happening. He'd been lost watching their fingers as Jon rubbed his thumb back and forth against the back of his hand.

“We're going to bed. Goodnight,” Dick called as soon as the credits started rolling and dragged his father off behind him. Jason looked over to them. 

“Want to watch another one?” he could see the challenge in Jason's eyes. 

“No?” Damian said hesitantly. 

“Awesome. I'm going on patrol. You kids have fun.” Damian glared at Jason when he winked at Jon. They were alone in the room after that. He looked over to Jon who was blushing. He squeezed his hand and Jon turned to him. 

“Did you want to watch another one?” he asked feeling awkward. 

Jon's eyes flitted over his face and down quickly before he looked back into his eyes. “No its late. We should just go to bed.”

“I have to walk Titus. Do you want to come with me?” The dog ran into the room like he did any time someone said his name. His entire body wiggled as he circled them. Jon laughed and agreed. He caught Jon's hand as they walked down the path to the front gate and then circled back around to the back of the manor. Titus ran away and back to them every few minutes. He seemed to be wondering why Damian was going so slow. 

“Are you happy here?” Jon asked. When they passed the gate leading out to the mausoleum. 

“I think I am. Do you think I am?” he asked. Jon smiled as he looked at him. 

“I do. You're not frowning as much.” Jon pushed on the skin between his eyebrows. He leaned up and kissed him, a quick peck. Titus barked at a raccoon and his attention drifted to the dog. The animal had scurried away through the safety of the fence. 

“How did you know that you wanted to be a hero?”

Jon glanced over at him before his brow wrinkled in thought. “I don't know. I just did. I can help people, it feels wrong not doing anything. Why?” Jon asked after a few moments. 

“I see them go out every night and fight so hard for this city. I want to do good, help people instead of hurting them.” He shrugged and looked at the manor. “I am afraid that they would not let me. I am a killer.” Jon stopped and pulled him into a hug. 

“That is not who you are. Jason has killed people. B forgave him. Because he's part of the family.” He gripped Jon's back. 

“I am not sure that I am,” he whispered. “I want to be. I want to have a father and these brothers, and nephews. I want this family.” Jon held him.

“Talk to your dad.” Jon pushed him away enough to kiss him. “You worry too much,” Jon said lightly and tugged him back toward the manor. 

A strange tension rose in his room as they changed for bed. He turned after tugging a shirt over his head and Jon was sitting on the bed staring at him, his own shirt in lap with only his hands through the sleeves. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

Jon jolted and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. Fine. You're- you. Yeah,” Jon mumbled. Damian smiled and stepped toward him watching as Jon flushed halfway down his chest. He set his hands on Jon's shoulders, running his thumb across the swell of his muscles. It was fascinating to watch him grow. He remembered how thin he'd been in the barn on the night they met, little more than skin and bone. Now he could see that strength growing within him. Jon's hands rose to his hips. Damian brushed his along Jon's shoulders and down his arms. He pulled Jon's hands from him and pushed him back on the bed. He had seen Jon hold a ton of metal above his head the day before and yet Damian moved him easily as they crawled further onto the bed. He could feel Jon growing hard between them and watched in fascination as the blush deepened. He lowered his hips a fraction. Jon gasped when he realized he wasn't the only one affected. He smiled and Jon curled up to kiss him. He leaned fully on Jon as the kiss deepened. Jon's hand pressed them closer together. He remembered what Jason had said and pushed back the nerves before lifting enough to slide his hands in Jon's pajama bottoms. 

Jon moaned when Damian's fingers wrapped around him and stared up at him in surprise. He looked down, but all he could see was his hand disappearing beneath the fabric. He moved carefully, a light tug. Jon bit his lip and his eyes closed. Damian got a little more confident with each noise Jon made, with each caught breath and jerk of his hips. He shifted so he could pull the fabric off and see what he was doing. Jon's fingers wrapped in his hair as the air hit him. He glanced up, but Jon's eyes were squeezed tight even with the way his mouth hung open in pleasure. He twisted his wrist and Jon let out another noise. He moved his hand faster, watching Jon squirm beneath him. “D, I'm gonna-” Jon breathed. He looked up at his face and kept working. A couple tugs later and Jon was jerking and coming. Jon's breath blew out and his body relaxed all at once. Damian pressed his face into the curve of Jon's neck before shoving his hand in his own pants. Jon's breaths evened out and he turned his head. When he met those impossibly blue eyes he hissed and came. 

-

Jon was blushing when they walked down to breakfast the next morning. He glared at Jason until the man started bothering Dick about how much sleep he got.

“He didn't get any,” his father said when he walked in. He smiled smugly at Jason who had frozen with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Eat your food,” Bruce admonished stopping behind Dick's chair. Dick choked out a laugh and leaned back to accept a kiss. 

Jon nudged him and whispered, “Ask him.”

“I will. Later,” he hissed. Jon's eyes narrowed at him. “I promise.” He saw his father watching them, but Tim's and Stephanie's arrival with the twins drew his attention. 

-

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” Damian asked. The family was starting to head for patrol. Jon had texted him every hour since he left asking him if he'd talked to his father yet. The man in question was standing at the computer half-dressed in his suit. He hadn't wanted to ask in the cave, but he had waited too long. If he didn't ask now he'd lose his nerve. Jon wouldn't let him live that down. 

“Yes. Is something wrong?” he asked barely glancing up at him. He looked at his father, the bat symbol stretching across his chest, framed by the cave behind him where Dick was pulling on his boots and Jason checking his holsters. 

“Am I part of this family?” he asked. His voice was small, and terrified of the answer. He might want to join them out there and try to do some good, but he wanted to have this family more. His father stood up straight and turned to him. 

“Yes,” he told him. His hand reached out a fraction of an inch before he caught himself. He hated the hesitation. Damian moved, gripping the fabric of the cape as he hugged his father. It took a moment before he felt armored arms wrap around him. “Of course you are.” 

\---

No one spoke during breakfast. Jon sat awkwardly between his parents. His dad looking as lost as he felt as he stared into the cereal in front of him like a wounded puppy. His mom was focused on the morning’s, ‘Gotham Gazette,” with a blurred photo of a boy holding up five tons of steel on the front. She hadn't said a word since she had gotten home the night before. She'd walked past the living room where him and his dad were watching a movie and straight to bed. His dad said that she was tired and had been calling in favors all day. Looking at himself on the cover of the paper, Jon couldn't help but wonder how many pictures had been better than what had ended up getting published. 

He could tell that she was mad when she folded the paper back up and held her coffee in front of her. She let the steam clear her sinuses and bring her back home. She continued not to say anything, but looked at his father pointedly until he couldn't avoid it anymore. “Son, would you mind giving your mother and I a minute? Go start on the tractor and I'll meet you in the barn.”

Jon could not get out of his seat fast enough. He rinsed his bowl but forced himself to walk until he got out the front door. He was surprised when his phone rang and the picture of him and Damian at the pier popped up on the screen. He paused on his way into the barn and looked at the time above their faces. “Hello?” he asked trying not to sound as bewildered as he felt. 

“Are you asking a question or greeting me?” Damian asked offhandedly. 

“Both.” Jon admitted. “It's six thirty in the morning.”

“Yes it is.” 

Jon rolled his eyes and smirked. “Why are you awake at six thirty in the morning?” he out and asked. 

“Father brought the paper.” Damian told him sounding distracted. “Did you see It? They are calling you the Boy of Steel.” He winced at the name but Damian continued. “I am not sure if it is because of the steel beams or because of your father but either way, I don't like it.” 

“Me neither,” he agreed and looked back at the house where his parents were talking about the same thing. “I think my ma is mad. She hasn't said that she is, but she read the article twice and they asked me to leave so they could talk.”

“Why would she be mad?”

Jon shrugged and sank down into the open grass. “Because I wasn't wearing a mask.”

Damian tutted. “Your father does not wear a mask.”

“Yeah, well my pa is Superman. I'm just Jon Kent from Smallville Kansas on the front page of the paper holding up five tons of steel.” 

“Well you are not  _ just  _ Jon Kent anymore. You are Steel Boy, lifter of heavy things.”

Jon laughed hard, and it loosened the tension in his shoulders. “Did you call to be annoying and make bad jokes?”

“I called because I  _ wanted _ to,” Damian said with a hard emphasis. “And because I do not want you to see your powers as a bad thing. What you did was good. You can help people, you did help people.” 

Jon swallowed hard on that, letting the line hold the silent air between them. He had never met his grandfather. On both worlds he had passed before Jon was old enough to remember anything about him. But his dad always talked about the man he was named after like he was the one who was super. When Clark had been young and afraid of what he was becoming, all the powers that he could control- the human man who had raised him didn't tell his father to hide and keep to himself. He helped him gain control because he knew that with his dad around there was a hope for a better future. Maybe he could be part of that better future. 

He listened to Damian talk about simple things, how Titus’ training was going and something green Alfred had made for him that he had demanded to know the recipe too but the butler wouldn't give him. He listened until he didn't feel as shaky. When they hung up he got up and started to the barn again. He cranked the tractor up on its jack and got to work. 

He’d brought over the new tire when he dad finally came in the blinked at his son who was bolting it on. “I told you to get started, not finish without me,” he teased. He looked a little surprised to see his son carting around the huge wheel on his own. He pat Jon’s shoulder and took over tightening the lugs as he held it in place. 

“Dad?” he asked when he started on the second one. Clark raised an eyebrow. “Is ma mad?” 

Clark finished tightening the lug and held the tire iron behind his neck, frowning. “She's not mad,” started slowly. “She's just scared. It's her job to be scared when she sees you doing hero things. I was scared too. We made you from scratch, you know?”

Jon nodded and put the third lug in place. “I understand,” he told him. “But, it's not going to stop me. You know?” he asked. His dad watched him, lips pursing. “I know you are scared and ma is scared and I'm scared about… well everything.” He cleared his throat against the dryness threatening to make his voice crack. “But I just." He tightened the lug by hand when his dad made it clear he wasn't moving yet and forced on the next one. “I have these powers,” he said when the last one was in place before turning to face his father. “I’m always going to have these powers. And if I can do something, if I can help people-” he swallowed, “Well it seems wrong not to try.” 

He watched his father, forcing himself to keep eye contact even though he really wanted to know more about the ground. Eventually the tension dropped out of his dad's shoulders and he stepped forward, cupping his cheek in his hand. “You know,” he finally said, voice breaking a little. He smiled and Jon realised that his eyes were wet. “Sometimes you really remind me of your grandfather.” 

-

His mom didn't take his speech as well as his father. They went back and forward for a few hours until finally everything was settled and they all decided that if they could not stop him, then Jon would have to learn. “I don't want you to rely on dumb luck. You could have been crushed!” his mother said for the tenth time. Her hair was puffed out from where she had run her hands threw it over and over as she put a lot of coffee on. “If you are going to do this then you are going to do it right. You're going to keep training and I only want you going out with your father. Nothing too crazy, just for the small stuff.”

“Like fires.” His dad grinned but it fell immediately when Lois looked at him panicked. They started all over again. 

He spent most of the week following his dad around. His evenings were spent trying not to fall from the sky as they flew over Metropolis. Just so that he could fall into bed soon as he got home. He was exhausted at the end of the week. Feeling sore in places he didn't know could feel sore. All of the muscle that had appeared over the past year was finally being stretched like they were meant to be. The burning in his chest felt better than it had felt in weeks. He was still asleep, drooling into his pillow, when Damian got there on Friday morning. He was woken up by a push to his side. The sun was already halfway to the mid point in the sky and Damian was smirking at him, sitting on the side of the bed. 

Jon grinned stupidly, forgetting to be embarrassed about the puddle of drool that stained his pillow. He caught Damian’s hand before it reached his cheek, pressing his lips to his knuckles. “Mornin’” he yawned and sat up stretching, “What time is it?” he asked. Damian was staring at his bare chest, the blankets having pooled at his hips. “D?” 

Damian blinked, eyes snapping up to his, no shame reading across his face as he asked, “What?”

“What time is it?” Jon grinned at him. 

“Time to get up.” his dad said from the open doorway, looking between the two of them suspiciously. Damian shot off the bed. Jon nodded, glaring at his dad until he left. 

-

His dad followed them around all day, insisting that he wanted to get to know his son’s new boyfriend better. He dragged them to the grocery store with him. He spent five minutes with every product, arguing the pros and cons of each brand. Then he had Damian help him make lunch after they unloaded everything while Jon cleaned out the chicken coop. He barely stopped to swallow his food as they ate, wanting to get away from his dad but his body was also starving from the exertion it had been through all week. His father, of course, didn't seem to notice and engaged Damian in an in depth conversation about US presence in the middle East and about how he was adapting in a new culture/language. And Damian-being perfect- had a lot of wise things to say. The conversation lasted so long that his dad had two cups of coffee after Jon cleared their plates. Then his mom got back from her errands in town asking if they wanted to play a game. So they played monopoly for two hours and even though he’d beaten everyone thoroughly, he couldn't find any joy. It was time for dinner when they packed the board away. His dad stole Damian to help him in the yard and his mom claimed him in the kitchen. It wasn't until his dad grinned back at his son as the door shut that he thought he was doing it on purpose.

Jon seriously thought that he might lose his mind when his dad suggested they all go see a movie after dinner, but his mom stepped in and told Clark they could go on their own. Jon could have kissed her, but instead he tried to hold onto his cool as his parents flitted around getting ready to go. They made it extremely difficult though when they sandwiched him in a cheek kiss on their way out the door. He was pretty sure that he could die at that moment but Damian didn't seem bothered. He smirked at the color in his cheeks and Jon cleared his throat. “Can I take you somewhere?” he asked. 

They drove out to the edge of town, past all of the corn to a small wooded area with a car path that lead to a clearing. He parked the truck and shut off the engine, grabbing the afghan he’d brought from the living room and getting out of the cab. He opened the bed and spread out the blanket, helping Damian up before he laid out flat and stared up at the sparkling sky. Damian settled next to him and they laid there for a while watching the sky. 

“Sometimes I get weirded out that my dad isn't from here,” Jon said after the silence had taken over. “I mean, none of my family is really from  _ here _ exactly. But it's weird think of my dad as an alien. He's just so normal and… dad-like.” He swallowed. He could feel Damian staring at him but kept his eyes up. “And then I remember that I'm not human either, and things get all weird and disjointed and I kind of freak out about being, you know, alive.” He glanced at Damian and the frown directed at him. “I guess that it's just nice to be here. To look at all to this.” He waved at the sky. “And see there is still something bigger than whatever is inside of me. Does that make sense?” he asked. 

Damian kissed him. It was slow and healing. It filled Jon to the brim with a tickling heat that was threatening to spill over. He sat up and pulled Damian into his lap, deepening the slow tangle with a tilt of his head. That was all it took to push that heat over the edge. His fingers traced down the sides of his perfect body, pushing up the hem of his shirt which came off easy at Jon’s request. Damian was warm. Having him under Jon’s palms in the cool breeze of the summer night was a heady feeling that only increased when he tugged on Jon’s hair to keep his chin up. Damian bit at his lip and Jon’s muscles reacted, ripping open the front of his jeans, successfully popping the button off and destroying the zipper. He only had a second to feel bashful before Damian was kissing him again with a renewed heat. 

Jon was distracted, his brain hazy, when Damian moved to his neck and he felt the bulge press into his own. He closed his eyes for a second and thought about anything he could to calm down. When he could think straight enough for it to be safe, he palmed the inside of Damian’s pants. He stiffened, clutching Jon's shoulders as a groan came out of him. 

The switch in his brain went off again and he flipped them so that Damian was laying back against the bed of the truck, his legs still wrapped around Jon’s waist. He hoped his face didn't look stupid as he tried to remember what had happened in the porn he had watched a few weeks ago. He ground his bulge against Damian’s who squirmed and threw his head back. He kissed him as he moved against him, again and again, harder and faster until Damian clawed at his shirt and his thighs squeezed hard around his waist. Jon followed only a moment after. He held himself up on his arms, looking down at Damian who was pink faced and more relaxed than Jon had ever seen. He grinned. “I guess you are into the whole alien abduction thing, huh?” he asked and laughed when Damian smacked him square in the chest.

-

“Hey Kathy?” Jon asked when the waitress brought over their sandwiches. Damian had left a few days ago and Kathy had been adamant about not letting Jon become a pining hermit. Apparently that meant that going to the dinner every other day for lunch and gossip. She raised an eyebrow at him as she peeled the tomato the never asked them to leave off from between the turkey and rye. Jon swallowed and pulled of the piece of crust to have something to do with his hands. “Remember Erin’s party last year when you were with Berkley Thompson?” 

“Yeah,” she sighed and rolled her eyes remembering exactly what had happened at that party. She went over the details with Jon every day for two weeks. “Why do you ask?” He went bright red and she put her sandwich down. “Jonathan Kent…” she whispered in astonished glee. 

He groaned. “Please don't make me say it,” he begged her. 

She grabbed his hand and shook her head. “I would never,” she told him seriously, then she waved down the waitress and asked for a banana. 

\---

He watched Dick stretch as he walked across the lawn while grinning and laughing at Jason. Damian followed the line of his arms down his chest. Dick must have felt his attention because he jogged over to him. Once he'd settled on the ground next to him, Dick's attention was back on Jason and Tim. He let his eyes take in the man next to him, his skin glimmered in the sun. It was obvious why Dick drew people's eyes when they went out in Gotham. Tim squeaked and he looked to the other two. Jason was doubled over laughing. Tim had his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't know what he'd missed. As Tim gave Jason a lecture, Damian watched the muscles shifting beneath his skin. He'd been beaten by Tim enough to know that he was stronger than he looked, but this was one time when he saw how hard the man had worked. Jason ignored Tim until he jumped on him. They grappled, Tim vicious as Jason laughed. It didn't take long for Tim to get Jason's arm twisted behind him forcing the larger man to submit. They rose to their feet. Jason rubbed his shoulder. Damian studied his shoulders. Jason's were broader, bigger than Jon’s, but he didn't want to touch them. His chest was more defined, but he didn't want to taste it. He had been surprised by the thoughts that had filled his head when he'd seen Jon without his shirt. He kept circling back to them. He'd been trying to figure out what was so different. 

“What's up with you?” Jason asked eyes flinty as he looked at Damian. 

“You are not attractive,” Damian replied. Dick spit out his water and started choking as he laughed. Jason shoved Tim when he joined in. 

“Fuck you guys,” Jason grumbled crossing his arms over his chest. The other two started poking at their brother. After a few minutes Jason headed back to the manor, Tim chasing after him. He could still hear Tim digging at the larger man. 

“You finally notice that Jon's starting to fill out?” Dick asked nudging him. 

“He was smaller than me when we met,” he mumbled. “He's not anymore.” It felt like every time they saw each other Jon had grown in some way. He was already nearly a head taller than him now, and his shoulders. Damian sighed. His  _ shoulders _ . 

“Oh kiddo, you've got it bad.” Dick pat his back and rolled up to his feet. “First loves are simultaneously the worst and the best.” 

“Why are they the worst?” he asked. Dick was quiet for a few moments, likely formulating his answer. 

“Normally, since they are the first, the emotions are new so they feel stronger. And when they end they hurt worse. But not all first loves end,” Dick rushed to add at the end. “I mean your father was my first love and we're here. I guess I did have a few loves between then and now. And man did that first part suck.” Dick continued to ramble to himself. When they reached the manor he seemed to realize he hadn't made his point. At least Damian hoped he hadn't made it. “I guess what I'm trying to say is that most people aren't lucky enough for their first loves to be their person. Most of us have to try a couple times. That's why it sucks. But you found Jon.” Dick pat him on the back. “So you got lucky.” 

-

Kathy smiled at him as they ate at the diner. Jon was blushing and he didn't know the cause, but he didn't want to ask. He was wary of the look in Kathy's eyes and wasn't sure if he'd like whatever had put it there. 

“So Damian,” she drawled. Jon made a startled noise. “I heard all about your skills… roller skating skills that is.” She winked at Jon who frowned at her.

“I will get better,” he insisted. 

“I'm sure you will. Jon is an  _ excellent _ student. I bet he's an even better teacher.” He glanced at Jon who was staring slack-jawed at his friend. 

“He is adequate,” he replied and Kathy laughed. He felt like he was missing something. It seemed important. “Are you okay?” he asked Jon. 

“What? Oh. Yes. I'm fine,” Jon replied. His face was redder than he'd ever seen.

“I'm feeling a little crampy. Either of you two want a banana?” Jon choked. He pat his back as Kathy grinned at them. She seemed happy with the reaction she'd gotten, and whatever had been going on between them ended. 

“We could go skating,” Jon offered. There wasn't a lot to do in Smallville. They were spending the last week of June in Kansas before heading back to Gotham for a few weeks while Jon's mom was on assignment. When they'd planned out their summer Jon had jumped up on his bed, looked at the calendar they had spent an hour color coding and had declared it the beginning of the ‘Summer of Super.’ Damian had stared flatly at him, but he'd had to fight smiling at the happy idiot. “Don't look at me like that,” Jon had complained and he'd called him an idiot. They'd ruined half of their calendar wrestling when Jon had leapt off the bed at him in amped up outrage. 

Skating ended when he knocked into one of the walls and his skate swerved taking Jon down with him. Their heads collided before they toppled in a pile on the floor. 

“Are you okay?” Jon asked. Both of their heads were aching. The pain radiated back and forth through the bond.

He pat Jon's head. “Did you forget that you are Steel Boy Lifter of Heavy Things?” Jon blushed. He scooted closer and kissed him. Jon's eyes were heated when they pulled away. 

“Did you want to hit this?” Jon asked and bumped his head against his shoulder. He could feel the change like the difference between dirt and concrete. Damian gave Jon a smile. He didn't think he'd seen him so effortlessly use his powers. He was about to tell him that when he heard the clatter of wheels. 

“Get off of the floor you losers,” Kathy said. She tapped her skate and scoffed. Between her and Jon they got him back on his skates. Kathy skated for a few more rounds, but Jon tugged him off to the concession stand. Jon handed him a root beer before he could ask. He sipped at the bubbly drink while they watched the people circle. 

“I am not improving,” Damian admitted. The last of the pain faded away. 

“No. You’re not,” Jon quipped and grabbed his hand. “But I like that you’re bad at this.” 

Once they dropped Kathy off, Jon drove them home. Instead of turning down the drive to the Kent farm he kept going. The road twisted and turned and at some point it stopped being a road, but Jon seemed to know where he was going. He pulled to a stop in front of a copse of trees. Jon practically jumped as he rounded the front of the truck to pull him toward the trees. 

“I've wanted to show you this for awhile,” he said. They walked through the trees when they stepped out on the other side there was a pond. The trees seemed to only block one side of the pond. Fields stretched out along the other. “I like swimming here, cause it feels like you’re all alone.” They walked closer and Jon looked at him. “So, do you wanna swim?” Jon looked excited, but nervous that he'd say no. He looked out at the pond, and the sun just starting to touch the horizon. 

“I do not have any trunks,” he said. 

Jon shook his head and pulled off his shirt. “We can just swim in our boxers.” He stared for a second. Jon bent to tug off his shoes and socks. He kicked his shoes off as Jon started backing toward the water. “Come on.” Jon sank into the water. He watched him sink further until only his eyes were above the water and he was watching him- waiting for him. He slid his pants down and pushed them toward his shoes. He closed his eyes before pulling his shirt off. As he walked toward the water Jon's eyes flicked across him. The water had barely reached his knee before Jon was surging up and pulling him in. He went under and surfaced with a splutter. Jon grinned and slipped his hand on either side of his face then kissed him. They swayed in the water as they floated. He wondered if this was how Jon felt when he was flying. So he asked. 

“Would you want to? I could take you flying. I think I could do it now,” Jon stumbled to reply. “I wouldn't drop you.” He quieted him with another kiss. 

“I'll go flying with you,” he said and splashed Jon as he pushed away. They swam and kissed until the sun had set and he could barely see past the end of his fingers. Jon stayed in the circle of his arms them as they floated. He looked around them, at the sky above them and the shadows of the land. He understood why it was such a special place to Jon. The next kiss he offered as a thank you. He liked seeing the little things and places that Jon held dear. He shivered, unable to hide the chill this time. Jon pulled him back to the bank. Damian straightened from grabbing his pile of clothes off the ground when Jon picked him up. They were standing next to the truck when he opened his eyes. He was dry and Jon's hair was swept back by the wind. He reached up and shook it free. “You look like your father,” he told him when Jon looked concerned. “This is you. It's better.” He grinned. Jon leaned down and kissed him. It was slower, with intent behind it. 

They were laid out in the back of his truck, the blankets from their picnic a few weeks ago spread out beneath them. Jon seemed to be working himself toward something. He'd kiss him, fiercely, stealing his breath. Then he'd pause and hover above him. Damian opened his mouth to ask why he'd stopped when Jon finally spoke, “If this is bad, stop me.” Then his head dropped and Damian had to curl to see him. Jon placed a kiss next to his belly button before pulling his damp boxers off. The air was chill against his skin, then he was enveloped in the heat of Jon's mouth. His head dropped back with a thud against the bed of the pick up. It was the best thing he'd ever felt. Jon sucked and he called out his name. Jon pulled off. 

“Am I doing it wrong? Should I stop?” 

“ _ No don't stop _ ,” he replied. Jon blinked at him. 

“That wasn't English, D. Do you want me to keep going?” he nodded locking eyes with Jon. He didn't last long. He couldn't. Jon coughed and pulled back, but he looked at him for a moment before taking him back in like it was a challenge he had to beat. He babbled a warning and came. Jon sputtered and coughed as he jerked back. He apologized, still not entirely in control. Jon rubbed himself against the curve of his hip. He felt a splash of heat hit his chilled skin and Jon slumped against his chest. He pet his hair while they both caught their breath. 

Neither of them moved much, Jon pulled the edges of the blanket over them. Jon's arms wrapped around him, holding him close and keeping him warm. He looked up at the stars and couldn't believe that out of everyone in the universe, the multiverse, this boy was the one that was meant to protect his soul. That he even wanted to protect it, to protect  _ him _ . 

“ _ Ya Rohi _ ,” he whispered. Jon's arms flexed in his sleep, but he didn't stir. 

They were in trouble when they got back. Clark was standing on the porch when they drove up a few hours later. As soon as they'd stepped out of the truck his face had twitched like he'd caught a bad smell. Jon started off with an apology. He stayed quiet, a shadow behind Jon as they walked up the pathway. He met the Superman’s eyes as he looked at him. He wasn't ashamed and he wasn't going to apologize. The frown deepened.

“Go to bed, it's late. We'll talk in the morning.” He went straight for his bed in the living room, barely daring to look over to Jon who had hesitated on the first stair. “Go. He'll still be there when you wake up,” Clark admonished. Jon jogged up the stairs. Clark turned and looked at him. He watched the leader of the Justice League start and stop before finally wishing him a good night and heading upstairs. 

-

They spent most of their time in Gotham at the pier or the beach. By the end of their two weeks he had the high score on Cheese Vikings and knew what Jon looked like spent and glowing against the sand. Jon swore he was still washing sand out of places, but it had been worth it. They'd spent nearly a month together and so when it came time to say goodbye he didn't want to do it. He knew that Jon was just going to be in Metropolis, but they weren't going to see each other for two weeks. He also knew it was their parents testing their bond, to see if they could spend time apart, or if they'd have to stay close together for the rest of their lives. 

Everyone drove up for Jon's birthday. The Kent's apartment in Metropolis was a world apart from their farm with shiny appliances and clean lines on all of the furniture. He walked around the living room while Dick and his father bickered in the kitchen and Lois looked on. Jason was still helping Tim and Steph get the twins upstairs. He looked back to the room and the same wall of photos they’d had at the farm. Some of the pictures were the same, but there were others too. He was studying a class photo trying to guess how old Jon was when the person in question wrapped his arms around him. He relaxed against his chest. 

“How old were you?” he asked. Jon hummed. 

“Probably twelve? My dad had tried cutting my hair.” He chuckled. It was an interesting cut. Oddly short on one side with Jon's curls randomly popping out. “Don't laugh. I'm sure you got bad haircuts too.” 

“There was one time I miscalculated an explosion and lost my eyebrows and half of my hair.” Jon squeezed him as he laughed.

“Oh I wish I had seen that,” Jon pressed a kiss to his temple before letting go as their parents walked in the room. The conversations they'd each had with their respective parents after the night at the pond had been awkward and they didn't want to risk another. 

After dinner Jon opened his gifts. Damian had spent a whole day out with Dick trying to find the perfect gift. It had been one of the more harrowing days, but at the end of it he'd known what he was going to give Jon. He stared at the carefully wrapped gift at the bottom of the stack. Jon opened the gift from his dad and his eyes sparked in excitement as he pulled out a belt. He didn't know the story behind it, but knew Jon would tell him all about it’s importance later. Jason gave him a season of one of the shows Damian had heard them talking about. Jon looked seconds from leaping over the coffee table to hug Jason. Damian looked at his gift and began to doubt his choice. Jon made a noise when he pulled the gift back Dick had given him from the table. With each shirt that Jon pulled out of the bag he laughed more and more. He pulled out the one with the bat symbol last. Jon showed his dad with a huge smile. 

“Damian walks around in the S shield all the time. I figured you might want one.” 

“Grayson,” he griped. 

“Was that supposed to be a secret?” Dick said with a shit eating grin. He knew it was. “He does  _ not _ wear it when he hasn't spoken to you in a few days.” Damian threw a plastic fork at Dick. Jon was blushing and looking at the shirt in his lap. 

Tim and Stephanie gave Jon gift cards. Tim started to apologize, but the twins started crying in unison and their reason became clear. Jason handed them off to their parents. Stephanie hugged Jon and told him that they'd take him shopping one day as they left the room.

Jon pulled the slip of paper out of the card his father gave him, looking a little confused. He read the slip again and then looked to his mother. “He-” Jon started. Lois simply smiled at her son. “You gave me flying lessons for the Batplane?” Damian listened to them talk about logistics for a few seconds while he stared at his gift. It was the last one. He slid the gift over when Jon stopped thanking his father. 

He watched as Jon carefully tore the paper. He saw the confusion on his face, but could tell that Jon recognized the cover. “I know it's your favorite. I thought it might help you learn? We could read it together.” Jon touched the title in Arabic. 

When he'd been out with Dick they'd gone through a bookstore. He'd been flipping through a few adventure books that the attendant had suggested when Dick gasped and pulled a book out. “Your dad used to read this to me,” Dick had said. “I was missing my parents. He learned Romani for me and would read a chapter every night. Still one of my favorite memories.” Dick ended up buying the book and he had decided what he was getting Jon. 

“You got him homework?” Jason asked. He looked over to him, still doubting his gesture. When he looked back up at Jon he was smiling sweetly at him. They'd talked a few days before about Jon wanting to know what he was saying. He'd been worried he would spoil his gift. He'd taught Jon a couple words, but he doubted the lesson had stuck. 

“I wrote you a note,” Damian offered. His eyes flicked to Clark. The man leaned over and watched as Jon opened the book. He knew his letters were rough. He hadn't spent enough time learning how to write the alien letters, but they were there. Jon was reading them. He watched his face and watched the realization hit him. 

“D,” Jon whispered. “I love you too.” He dropped the book on the table and crossed the room to hug him. He whispered the words he'd spent the last month perfecting as he held Jon against him. Kryptonian had been harder than he'd expected, but Clark had been eager to teach him. When Damian had asked to know a specific sentence Clark had been surprised, but had seemed pleased to teach him how to express his love. Hiding his daily Skype calls with the man had been hard, but they'd managed. When Clark was busy, his father would quiz him and explain details that Clark glossed over. 

As everyone started packing up Jon pulled him aside. He kissed him. Normally a kiss like that was a promise for more, but he pulled away and smiled. “You know? You knowing Kryptonian will give us an advantage when we’re fighting crime together.” 

\---

Summer ended too quickly. Their parents made them spend more and more time apart as registration for Jon’s senior year of high school loomed over their heads. He begged his parents to let him go back to Gotham Academy, arguing that he wouldn't even have to stay in Gotham, he could commute from Metropolis. When that didn't work, he tried for Metropolis itself. Even two hours of distance wouldn't be as bad as the hundreds between them- but even that was no dice. His parents wanted Jon to have an inconspicuous life, a rural, simple childhood that could not be found in the city. 

So he spent as much time with Damian as he could. They rotated off full weeks at a time, driving nowhere, playing board games, basking under the pier, kissing for hours on end because Jon felt like he could kiss Damian forever. 

And he felt silly for thinking it, but Jon couldn't help but worry that once he went back to school all of the good they had worked through that summer would break. He wasn't worried that Damian didn't love him, he knew he did and he knew that he would never say it lightly. But he didn't want anything to change. He didn't want to lose what they had, even if it was for something better. It was too hard to imagine that things got better than what they were now.

“Damian?” he asked. They were laying across the roof of his house staring up at the sky where Damian had laid those first nights, listening to the sounds of his home. He hummed and Jon rolled his head to look at him. “What do you think we’ll be doing ten years from now?” 

He didn't look at Jon and he didn't hesitate. “I imagine you will be a hero like your father and I will be like mine. Only together.” He said easily, almost bored like he had thought about it a thousand times before. 

He took Damian’s hand and looked back up at the stars. They were the same stars that had been there the night he was almost killed. The same stars that were in the sky the night Damian died and came back. The same stars that had been shining on their first date, and when the twins were born. And when they went swimming. Jon hoped that they would still be there in ten years. When they did what their father's did- but better. Because they wouldn't just be “Only together.” They would be always together. No matter what school he went to or what city they were in. They were bound by something stronger than super powers. Stronger than even his dad. No matter what happened. For the rest of their days. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A Look Behind The Scenes Of Chapter 7**
> 
> The batfam totally had a very long debate about who was worse with people, Jason or Damian. Damian won because he has lived his entire life in a cave with assassin's. Jason is a little butt hurt about it. 
> 
> I really wanted the book that Damian gave Jon to be the Percy Jackso series-- but it's the hobbit. It needed to be old enough that Dick would have read it too. And I don't see Jon caring for Harry Potter because he is a fucking super human with a god of a father. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Afterwords**
> 
> It's Prubbs and DNA here and we just wanted to say thank you so much for reading our story! We have always loved the Supersons and it is encouraging to see so many of you have enjoyed the way we write them. This story got it's name from the song Louisa by Lord Huron. If you haven't heard of this glorious man, please do us a favor and follow this [ link! ](https://youtu.be/KW9nDm1ui9g)
> 
> DNA originally wrote an Epilogue for this story with our boys being a little older, but since we had so much encouragement from you guys, we thought it might be better to keep it open in case we are inspired to write a sequel. So subscribe to our pages and keep and eye out because it just might come up!
> 
> If you enjoyed reading this, please force it upon your friends so we can preach the greatness of Jon Kent and Damian Wayne for all to hear.
> 
> If you have any story prompts that you are interested in seeing us do, or a paring you might like us to try, you can find us on Twitter @Prubbs1 or @Dnawhite51. You can also message us on tumblr at Prubbs. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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